


Goodnight, My Angel

by Choi Eimi (Siyah_Kedi)



Series: Turn Up The Bright Lights [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 56,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyah_Kedi/pseuds/Choi%20Eimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Turn Up The Bright Lights~ READ THE WARNING IN THE FOREWORD OR ELSE I CANNOT BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE.</p><p>As a child, Tao is beaten and abused by his father.  One night, his father snaps entirely, ending with Tao alone on the streets.  Assimilated by a gang of goodnatured ruffians, Tao discovers Wushu, but the idyll is not to last.  A hostile takeover results in Tao selling himself for the money to continue his education.  A chance encounter with an SM Entertaintment recruiter brings him to a life of pampered luxury as a trainee, where he meets Kris, then still Wu Yifan.  </p><p>Kris knows there's something not entirely right with Tao and that the hero-worship/puppy-love he seems to hold for the older trainee goes much deeper than it seems.  In his quest to help Tao recover from his childhood, Kris delves deep into the dark underbelly of the city and learns that sometimes it might just take pain to erase the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The not-very-long awaited sequel to TUtBL! 
> 
> WARNING: POSSIBLE TRIGGERS AHEAD.
> 
> Including but not limited to child abuse, violence, rape, and offscreen murder/suicide. ADDED: onscreen murder, graphic depictions of violence, prostitution, underage, bloodplay, self-doubt (and possibly more. This is not going to be a rainbows-and-sunshine story.)
> 
>  
> 
> No idea yet as to how long this will be; not as long as TUtBL. This is more of a prequel, as it details the whole of Tao's story, and why Kris Knows So Much.
> 
> Will be followed by "Kaleidoscope" - a HunHan true sequel that will pick up in the middle of the TUtBL story, only from Sehun and Luhan's POV.

**Chapter One**

 

The fist came flying out of his blind spot; he had no warning until it connected with the side of his head.  Seven-year-old Huang Zitao hit the ground under the force of the blow.  His father kicked him in the ribs, and then screamed in frustrated rage. 

Zitao was used to his father’s beatings.  It was the way of the world.  His mother sometimes tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he knew it was.  If he were better, it wouldn’t happen. 

“Why are you so stupid!” His father’s voice was like a thunderclap.  Zitao longed to cover his ears just to drown out some of the noise, but he knew it would be worse if he gave such a sign of ‘rebellion.’  He lay where he’d fallen and looked at a stain in the carpet.  “What kind of report card is this?  What kind of grades!  I didn’t raise you to be a fucking idiot!”  He kicked Zitao again, getting him in the hip this time. 

Zitao took the beating in silence, aware that he wasn’t good enough.  He despaired of ever being good enough.  Then, to his surprise, his mother appeared from the kitchen. 

“Stop!”

His father wrenched his malevolent gaze off his son and let it fall upon his wife.  Zitao watched in terror as his father advanced on her, his face red as a boiled lobster.  He knew that his parents fought sometimes over him – he could hear them screaming at each other through the thin walls of his bedroom.  He hated himself when he heard the sound of fists striking flesh and his mother’s helpless cries.  If only he could be better, he prayed, then it wouldn’t happen.  His mother was an angel, a goddess, and she didn’t deserve the marriage  _or_  the worthless son she’d gotten. 

“How dare you tell me how to raise my son!” his father bellowed.  “If you weren’t such a worthless woman you could have given birth to a decent child!  It’s  _your_  fault he’s useless!”

He struck.  His mother wailed.  Zitao cowered, helpless and hating his father.  He started to climb to his feet; a mistake, as it only served to draw his father’s attention back to him.

“Get the hell out of my house you worthless lump!” he roared, jowls quivering.  “Don’t you show your fucking face around here again!  I don’t even want to hear your name!” 

Momentarily confused, Zitao stayed where he was.  His father tore the door off of one of the cabinets that held curios and knickknacks as he wrenched it open, reaching inside and withdrawing – a gun.

Zitao had only ever seen guns on TV before, and had no idea his father owned one.  But he knew what it was, and he was more afraid than ever.  He bolted. 

The door didn’t quite shut behind him.  His mother was still screaming.  His father screamed right back at her.  Then, suddenly, a gunshot.  Zitao didn’t know it would be so loud.  It seemed especially deafening in the sudden silence that followed it.

“…Mama?” Zitao realised he couldn’t hear his mother’s voice any more.  He crept silently towards the still-open door, wondering if he’d fallen asleep and was having a nightmare.  He hoped it was true; if it was a nightmare, he could wake up soon, and then maybe crawl into bed with his parents.  His mother would make him hot chocolate if she was feeling especially nice.  And his father always apologised for his outbursts later.  It was part of why Zitao tried so hard to be good for him.  His father was such a nice man, and worked hard to take care of his family.  Zitao was a disappointment. 

His father’s voice was still loud, and startled him.  “Goddammit Xian Lu, look what you made me do,” he said.  “Look what you made me do!”  Zitao wrenched his hand away from the door, suddenly not so sure he wanted to push it open and see …

“Look what you made me do!” his father was screaming now.  “Look what you made me do!”

He longed to go back inside and make sure his beloved mother was okay.  His every instinct screamed at him to flee.

Another gunshot echoed through the darkened neighbourhood.  The other families would have heard it, and would be coming soon to find out what was going on.  His father had stopped making noise.

The silence pressed down on him like a physical thing.  Zitao pushed on the door with one finger.  It swung open and nudged the far wall. 

“Mama?” Zitao called.  “Papa?”  He started to step inside, then remembered his father had told him not to come back.  Would he be beaten again if he went inside?  And there was a funny smell in the air, too.  Movement drew his eyes down, and Zitao saw a puddle of water spreading across the floor.  It was going to stain the rugs in a moment, and then his father would be  _really_  angry; the rugs had been expensive, bought before he’d lost his job as supervisor.  Those rugs were the only thing they had left of the nice house he only somewhat remembered, back when he was younger. 

The puddle reached the rugs and turned them red.  Zitao was puzzled for a moment, and then as he looked beyond the spreading pool, realised he could see legs.  His mother’s legs.  They were lying in the puddle, and they were red, too.

Suddenly, Zitao knew he was looking at blood.  A lot of blood. 

A neighbour’s door creaked open, and a querulous voice called out, asking if everything was alright.  Panic seized him.  He didn’t think his parents were alive any more.  Then, an even more terrifying thought.  What if the police came, and thought he’d done it?  Everyone knew his father beat him, because he wasn’t good enough.  If they came and found him there, wouldn’t they think that he’d done it?  He was the only one still alive, after all.

And he didn’t want to go to jail.  He couldn’t even go back inside to get clothes.  He had to go, or they’d come for him.  They’d throw him in jail and forget about him until one day he died and they’d realise he was gone only when they had to move his skeleton to make room for another prisoner. 

Tucking his mother’s memory close to his heart, he told himself that if he’d been better, his father wouldn’t have killed her.  She’d still be alive if he’d been a better son.  More doors were opening.  In the distance, he could hear sirens.

Zitao ran, until the streetlights blurred and the road became a dragon, its sinuous coils sliding beneath his feet.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Six months to a lonely seven-and-a-half year old boy was pretty much an eternity.  Zitao was slowly starving to death, and he knew it, but the only things he could find to eat was what he could scavenge out of the trash bins.  Sometimes they made him sick. 

He found that sometimes he couldn’t remember the sound of his mother’s voice.  It was worse than the hunger he usually felt, because he’d been hungry ever since he left his house; that was just a matter of degrees.  Sometimes he was less hungry than others, but it never went away. 

But the day he realised he couldn’t quite remember the way she’d pronounced her words, the way her lips would shape the sounds…

He couldn’t even bring himself to scavenge afterward; he spent three days meditating, trying to recall if her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. 

On the third day, the gang found him.  Zitao had been avoiding gangs and other street urchins, because they meant danger or competition.  By that point, however, he was too tired and weak to even get up and run away.  He knew in his heart he would only fail at that as well, just like he’d failed at everything ever since he was born.  So he sat in apparent serenity as they approached. 

“Gocho says you’ve been sitting here for days, kid,” one of them said.  Zitao looked up at him – way up.  To Zitao’s eyes, the man was enormous, even larger than his father, and heavily muscled.  A bicycle chain swung from his belt.  Half of his head was shaved, and he had metal shoved through the skin beneath one eyebrow.  A tattooed tiger curled up the side of his neck.  “You trying to die?”

“No,” Zitao said, as clearly as he was able when the world was spinning around him.  “I don’t want to die.”

 

The next thing he was aware of was something soft beneath him.  To the child long since accustomed to cement pillows and newspapers for blankets, the feeling of soft cotton under his cheek was disorienting.  He jerked upright and realised he had no idea where he was.  Bone-deep terror shot through him like lightning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The voice was wholly unfamiliar.  Zitao recoiled, wondering if he was about to be beaten for sleeping in the wrong place.  “Calm down, kid,” the voice said.  Zitao oriented on it, and discovered it belonged to a smiling young man with dark eyes and vibrant blue hair.  There were tattoos on his hands, Zitao noticed, when the man reached out for him as though he were a wild animal.  Zitao realised he was baring his teeth and mustered all the dignity he could. 

“Who are you?  Where am I?” he asked, as politely as he could. 

“The name’s Mica, kid.  Who are you?”

“Huang Zitao.”

“Huh.” Mica scratched the back of his head in a move that reminded Zitao of the cartoons he sometimes used to watch.  Before his world ended in a clap of thunder and a rain of blood.  “Well, you’re at what Tandem calls ‘headquarters’ and the rest of us just refer to as “The Shithole.”  Be welcome.”

More bewildered than ever, Zitao felt his eyes widen as he tried to make sense of the words. 

Mica laughed.  It was a hearty, warm sound, and Zitao, who had been utterly without human companionship since he’d run away almost seven months prior, found himself liking Mica. “Don’t even say anything,” Mica said, holding up one hand to forestall words.  “I can see the questions on your face.  Tandem is our leader.  He’s the one who got us all together.  Bit of an odd type, but not bad.  He’ll take care of you.”

“Um.  What does that mean?”  The words brought flashbacks of his father, red-faced, screaming that he’d ‘take care’ of him with his belt.

Again, Mica seemed to understand.  “Guess daddy hit you too, huh?  Is that why you ran away?”

“My parents are dead.”

This took Mica aback for a moment, before he leaned over and clapped Zitao on the shoulder so hard he pitched forward.  “We’ll be your family now, kid.  What’s your name again?”

He was beginning to wonder if the guy was stupid.  “Huang Zitao,” he repeated.  Mica’s face twisted.

“That’s too complicated.  We’ll call you Zi.”

A petite foreign woman with startlingly white skin, ash blonde hair, and heavily made up eyes poked her head in.  “Hey, Mica, that kid up yet?”

Mica pointed to Zitao like a showman displaying a prize.  “As you see him,” he said, and then added to Zitao, “That’s Catty.  She’s a moody bitch but Tandem likes her so we can’t get rid of her yet.”

He’d made no effort to lower his voice.  Zitao watched in pure astonishment as the insults resulted in Catty merely flipping him off, rolling her eyes impatiently.

“Tandem wants to see him,” she said, and vanished from the doorway. 

Mica stood up and stretched.  “Well, Zi-kid, looks like you’re on.  But I think Tandem likes you.  You’ll be fine, just tell the truth.”

“What else would I tell him?”  Zitao didn’t want to leave the room and meet Tandem, who was the leader of a gang of  _ruffians._   He’d heard his father use that word once to describe some of the neighbourhood kids, and looked it up in the dictionary.  It wasn’t appropriate for his friends, but he recalled it now and realised it fit these people perfectly.  He really,  _really_  didn’t want to go.  He hoped Tandem wasn’t the type who used his fists when his words failed him.

 

Tandem, as it turned out, was the man who’d found him.  Catty was curled up on his lap while he held court inside a large, mostly empty room.  Tandem looked him over with a sardonic eye, then lifted one brow.  Zitao was impressed; he wondered if the purpose of the metal bar in his skin was to keep it from falling off. 

“What’s your name, kid?”  His voice rumbled pleasantly.  Despite the shaved head and the tattoos, he didn’t  _seem_  too scary.  But then, Zitao, neither had his father, who was mild-mannered and friendly until he lost his temper. 

“Huang Zitao, sir,” he said, his fingers twining together nervously behind his back. 

“Don’t ‘sir’ me,” Tandem said.  “I ain’t your daddy, and I sure ain’t your mama.  I brought you back here because Gocho was running the streets and said he’d seen you sitting in that alley for three days without moving.  He said he thought you were dead, and if you weren’t, maybe you were the Buddha reincarnated to have that kind of discipline at your age.  How old are you, anyway?”

“Eight.”

“You speak awfully nice.  You write?”

“Some.”

Tandem looked at Mica, who stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.  “I’ll take him with me,” he offered.  “If he wants.”

“Wants what?” Zitao asked, already hating that they spoke over his head. 

“To run with me, Zi,” Mica said.  “I roll people who look like they can afford it.  We’re like the modern-day Robin Hoods.  You know that story?”

 _Roll?  Run?_   White-faced and terrified as the situation started falling down on him, Zitao shook his head. 

“What are they teaching these kids these days?” Mica asked.  No one answered him.  “No problem, kiddo, we’ll get you set up.  Always heard kids make it easier.  Guess we’ll find out.”

Zitao turned to Tandem, who nodded.  “Mica will take care of you,” he said.  “If he’s not, you can come to me with anything – any time, any day.  Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Mica, get him something to eat.  Then find out if we’ve got anything on hand that’ll fit him.  If not, take him shopping.”

*

Shopping was a new experience.  Mica had all sorts of words for it: sticky fingers, a five-fingered discount,  _liberating_  the items.  He also ‘liberated’ more than a few wallets out of pockets.  At first, Zitao was horrified and wanted to return it.  Mica pulled him aside and pointed out a well-dressed woman with a lovely handbag.

“See that purse?  That’s Dolce and Gabana.  Worth at least a grand.  You get what I’m saying?  And take a look at the rock on her finger.  She married money, I bet, and this won’t hurt her much.  We just need her cash anyway.  I’ll even put the wallet back when we get it.  Chances are, she won’t even notice.  But you watch how I do this, alright?  Watch  _carefully._ ”

Walking somewhat stiffly – he already had three complete sets of clothes for Tao shoved down inside his baggy pants – he pretended to trip over one of the clothing racks and ploughed into the woman.  She snapped at him, but Zitao was intently watching his hands.  While Mica’s mouth was running, apologising, and the woman was taking in his hair with a disgusted expression, his hands were sliding into the purse – then out.  It was over so fast the woman never even noticed.  He shimmied the wallet up into his sleeve, bowed, and the woman turned away, unaware that she’d just been robbed in full daylight. 

Zitao was awestruck.  “She didn’t even see,” he whispered excitedly when Mica returned to him.  “How did you do that?”

“Simple, Zi,” Mica said.  “Just takes practice, that’s all.  We’ll let you work us over when we get back to the shithole, so you can get good at it before we take you out to work.”  He expertly rifled through the wallet, hidden between two clothes racks, and fished out nearly a thousand dollars in cash.  Pocketing it with a smile, he handed the wallet to Zitao.  “You give it back to her.  Quickly now, and then make sure she doesn’t see you with me.  I’ll be outside.  Give it back, don’t say anything, and then come meet me.  Can you do this?”

He could see how serious Mica was.  With all the steel in his eight year old spine, he straightened.  “I can do it,” he said, seriously.  Mica smiled, and ruffled his hair.

“Good kid.  Go to it, now, go!”

He slipped away, somehow managing to get out the door without being seen.  Zitao took the wallet and tracked the woman down.  “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said politely.  She took in his dirty, ill-fitting clothes and scowled.  “These fell out of your purse when that man jostled you.”

He handed the wallet and a lipstick Mica had swiped back to her.  She took it gingerly, then smiled.  “Thank you for returning it,” she said.  “Where did you find it?”

Mica had told him not to speak, but Zitao had an idea of where this was going to go if he didn’t.  She might check the wallet, and accuse him, and then the cops would come and take him away at last. 

“Under that rack,” he said, pointing to the one she’d been standing beside when Mica bumped her. 

“What’s your name, little boy?  Are your parents around?”

Zitao shuffled his feet.  “No,” he said, and tried to look angelic and waifish.  “But I like to come here and see the pretty clothes,” he added, because he’d always been a quick study, he just didn’t test well.  That’s how his mother had put it, shortly before she – died. 

The woman melted.  “Would you like a candy bar?”  She rooted around in her purse and gave him some chocolate.  Zitao smiled brightly.

“Thank you, ma’am!”

“A reward for returning my wallet.  You didn’t take anything from it, did you?”

Since he hadn’t touched it until Mica handed it back, already looted, Zitao said with perfect honesty, “I never even opened it.  I just saw it fall when he hit you.  Thank you for the chocolate,” he added, and knowing – hoping – that Mica would be waiting for him, he waved cheerily to her and scooted out of the store. 

Mica was exactly where he’d said he’d be, around the corner.  “Nice,” he said, when Zitao proudly showed off the candy.  “But next time, you shouldn’t stick around so long.  Gives them a chance to get your face in their minds.  She’ll probably remember you next time she sees you.  ’Till then, we better beat it before she opens that wallet and realises I ripped her off.”  Mica took his hand and they ran, Mica occasionally picking him up when he started to fall behind.  It was the start of a golden period in Zitao’s otherwise dark life.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Shortly after he celebrated his eighth birthday, Zitao was out with Mica again.  They’d been training him in the Art, they called it – sometimes sarcastically, because often the people they rolled were so stupid they acted as if they  _wanted_  their money stolen from them – and because of his youth and his quickness and his cute face, he was getting to be good at it. 

They were in a new city – Mica had taken some spare cash and gotten them on the bus for an hour or two – and Zitao was drawn to the market square, where crowds of bustling people made it easy to pick their pockets unseen.  He had a backpack on one shoulder, already half-full of stolen wallets.  These, he’d learned, would not be returned one by one, merely raided and dropped off en masse.   They wore gloves against the chance of fingerprints being left behind. 

A clearing opened up in the throng of people and Zitao suddenly found himself mesmerised by the sight of a man flipping himself through the air.  Another man was performing a sort of dance with two long Chinese swords.  It was art in motion; Zitao was captivated.

He forgot he was there to be stealing, and found himself drawn closer to watch.  The display was almost over, and Mica found him as the crowd was breaking up.

“Wushu,” he said, knowledgeably.  “It’s a type of martial art.  You like it?”

Zitao turned to him with wonder shining in his eyes.  “It’s wonderful,” he said.  “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Mica smiled.  There was something furtive about the expression, but Zitao was so full of excitement that he couldn’t tell what it might mean. 

 

Two weeks later, Tandem called him to what Zitao privately referred to as the Throne Room. 

“A little birdy told me you might be interested in learning Wushu,” he said.  Zitao let out a wordless noise of pure joy. 

“I am,” he practically shrieked.  “I want to!  Can I?  Oh, please, can I?”

“Go with Gocho,” Tandem said, and shifted Catty out of his way.  She slid down off the chair – a legless old La-Z-Boy Tandem had found out on the street for trash pickup – and left the room.  Gocho – a hulking brute of a man with the disposition of a puppy – appeared from wherever it was he sat when not attending directly on Tandem, who was like a king to Zitao’s eyes.  He was smiling warmly, thrilled with Zitao’s excitement.  “He’ll take you to a dojo we found that’ll train you.”

The next three years were the absolute best of Zitao’s life.  He studied and trained with the Wushu masters at the dojo, moving quickly through the ranks, and he lived and worked with Tandem’s gang.  He also, to his relief, hit something of a growth spurt – he’d been half-afraid he would remain four feet tall, and the shortest member of the gang, for the rest of his life – and could finally look Catty in the eye.  Mica still laughed at him – Catty was the next shortest, after all – but Zitao was proud of his body’s growth.  He even celebrated his eleventh birthday at the dojo, where he found warm acceptance.  The masters didn’t care that he was a homeless orphan, and they never asked where he got the money for his lessons.  They were only worried about whether or not he was dedicated to his study of Wushu. 

For a boy who had lived the first seven years of his life with an abusive father who told him daily that he was worthless, Zitao was finally beginning to see the worth of his own self.  That was, of course, when disaster struck.  He was sharing a room with Mica, and the gunshots woke him from a dead sleep one night. 

There had been rumours of a new gang in town, one thirsty for violence and uncaring of the lives they took.  By comparison, Tandem’s gang was positively peaceful.  They never thought they would become the targets, however. 

Zitao had been learning swordsmanship.  He didn’t know what good a sword would do against a gun, but he snatched up the Chinese straight sword he kept under his mattress anyway, before he and Mica raced for the throne room.  They met Gocho and Sienna, the gang’s only other woman besides Catty, in the hall of the once-abandoned warehouse they called home, and together they made their way to Tandem’s side.

When they got there, it was too late.  Tandem was slouched half-off his throne-chair, while blood poured from the multiple new holes in his body.  Zitao reflexively gagged to see the closest thing he’d had to a good father riddled with bullets, dead.  His eyes were still wide open and staring blankly.  Zitao shuddered, wondering if his soul was still inside, could still see what was happening to his beloved gang family. 

Catty screamed, a harsh, piercing sound that seemed to go on forever. 

The leader of the invading gang turned towards her, and Zitao caught a glimpse of his face.  He was entirely hairless.  That was the first thing he noticed.  Not even eyebrows.  The second thing was the way his lips stretched across his face in a crude caricature of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, which twitched spasmodically.  He looked psychotic. 

“Someone shut that bitch up,” he snarled.  More gunfire.  Catty fell to the ground, dead, and the blood oozed around her, tinting her hair.  The smell of it brought back memories of the night his parents died, and Zitao gagged.  “Head’s up, folks,” the man said, loud enough to be heard.  The rest of Tandem’s gang were crowding around the edges of the room, staring at their fallen leader in helpless fury or grief.  “My name is Zed.  From now on, I’m in charge.  You hear me?  Anyone doesn’t like it can give Josephine here a blow job.”  He stroked the handgun he carried, almost lovingly. 

Zitao shuddered, repulsed. 

Mica very slowly knelt down and leaned over to Zitao.  “Listen, Zi,” he whispered.  “Go back to our room.  Take all the money you can find.  Get out of here before you –”

A hole blossomed in the center of his forehead.  Zitao felt something wet splatter across his face, and drew back slightly.  Mica fell lifelessly forward, and Zitao realised the back of his head was missing entirely.  His throat locked around a scream, Catty’s violent death still vivid in his mind.  In short, jerky motions, he twisted his head up and around to look at Zed, who was still holding his gun out, almost lazily.

“I don’t like secrets,” he said, and then his face twisted.  “ _So no whispering!_ ” he shrieked.  Zitao lifted one trembling hand to his face.  It came away red with Mica’s blood.  Against his will, his eyes returned to the gaping, bloody hole where Mica’s head used to be.  Something white gleamed at the edges; mixed in with the red was something spongy and grey.  Zitao realised he was looking at what was left of Mica’s brain and retched, stomach heaving.  Zed approached at a slow shamble, one leg dragging behind the other just slightly.  He dragged the barrel of the gun down the side of Zitao’s face.  Keeping Mica’s fate in mind, Zitao stared straight ahead over his shoulder and tried to pretend he wasn’t shaking and near to pissing himself with terror.  

“I like children,” Zed said, and leaned forward, licking a stripe up his cheek.  Zitao recoiled, disgusted, and felt his stomach turn over when he accidentally kicked Mica’s arm.  He gagged again, but swallowed against the impulse to vomit – Gods only knew what this Zed would do to him if puked all over his shoes.  Zed touched his chin, almost affectionately, and returned to the center of the room.

“Some new house rules,” he shouted.  “First of all, you work for me now!  And I’ll say again, if you don’t like it, well, Josephine likes to be deep-throated.  It makes her happy.  And sometimes if I pull the trigger, the bullet goes into your stomach and doesn’t kill you right away.  It’s a very slow, long death.  I enjoy it.  You may not!”

Three more of Tandem’s people were dead by the time Zed was done talking.  Zitao wasn’t one of them, but he saw Mica’s body out of the corner of his eye and wished he was. 

 

Zed stayed himself for two weeks.  The first night after the massacre that preceded his takeover he forced Zitao to sit on his lap while everything Tandem had ever collected was brought out for his inspection.  His hand started on Zitao’s knee and slowly crept up his thigh.  Afraid of what might happen next, Zitao forced himself to puke all over him. 

Zed was, of course, furious and disgusted.  It did remove Zitao from his sights until he left again, however, but not before he examined the logbook and discovered that Tandem had kept meticulous records of all the money that came in and went out again.

“What is this bullshit!” He threw the book on the fire, watched the flames lick its edges, and then pulled it back out with his bare hands.  Zitao watched from behind Sienna, who’d taken him up when Zed threw him to the ground.  He hadn’t even bothered wiping himself off, and the smell of bile was causing Zitao’s stomach to churn.  The bodies had been moved, but the blood hadn’t been cleaned, and he could still see the drying remnants of blood and tissue where Mica’s body had lain, not even ten feet from where he stood now. 

“The fuck is Wushu?” Zed bellowed.  One of his lackeys came up and said something, too quiet for Zitao to hear it.  “ _‘Wushu for Zi,_ ’” he read mockingly.  “That stops immediately!  Zi!  Who the fuck is Zi?”

Zitao steeled himself and stepped forward.  “I-I am,” he said, his voice catching and breaking around the words. 

Zed’s eyes flickered down his spoiled jacket, and then back up to Zitao’s face.  He looked like a lizard; there was nothing human in his eyes, only a coldness.  The corner of one eyelid twitched continuously.  His voice started softly.  “Little Zi, practicing Wushu.  We’re not  _paying_  for that bullshit!” Spittle flew from his mouth as he strained to get the words out.  Zitao wondered, in a calm, detached part of the back of his mind, if Zed had a speech impediment he was trying to conceal.  “You want to do it, you do it on your own!”

Zitao mourned the loss of his Wushu almost as deeply as he mourned Mica, because Zed had already announced that the people who lived in their town were his people now, and he would not tolerate stealing.

“Stealing is for children!” he bellowed.  “It is wrong!  We do.  _Not. Steal!_ ”  He then shot Gocho through the thigh, nearly crippling him. 

It didn’t take long for Zitao to realise that Zed’s choice in the criminal life was drugs.  He disdained them, and watched in futile desperation as first Sienna, and then others lost themselves in heroin, cocaine, and methamphetamines. 

He went to the dojo and begged, explaining his circumstances as best he could, but the Masters were in dire straits of their own and could not, were not financially  _capable_ , of taking him as a charity case.  Zitao knew he was being followed, and he dared not return to picking pockets lest the next head Zed put a hole through be his own.  He fell into a deep depression that lasted nearly three months, before he realised that despite her drug-induced haze, Sienna always had money.

He confronted her about it one day.  “Are you stealing?”

“Of course not,” she said.  “I’m still alive, right?  It’s called whoring.”

He was totally unfamiliar with the word.  Sienna laughed hollowly and patted him on the head when he asked. 

It was Gocho, lame and in constant pain from the infected bullet wound in his leg, who told him what it meant.  Zitao remembered the feeling of Zed’s hand creeping up this thigh and shuddered.  Then he got word that his dojo had burned to the ground; the Masters had survived the inferno, but their livelihood was in ashes.  Zitao took some of his remaining money, hidden away the night of Zed’s takeover, and went to the temple to pray for them. 

One of the Masters, also praying, found him there.  “You do us honour, Zitao,” he said, bowing low.  “We will relocate – it has been ruled an accident, and we were well-insured against fire.  But now more than ever we need paying customers.  I deeply regret your circumstances.  I will pray for you as well.”

Zitao thanked him, and felt the emptiness of hopelessness closing in around him.  Wushu was the only bright thing left in his life, now that Mica was gone.  Zitao wondered absently if he was somehow cursed to cause the deaths of the people he loved.  He knew, too, that the burning of the dojo was no accident; he’d been followed there, and Zed apparently had a personal grudge against happiness. 

It was a simple thing, after all, to find a street corner where the whores were – Sienna was out there that night, and introduced him to her friends – and apprentice himself to them.  Between Johns they played games and taught him the rudiments of what they did. 

“It’ll be the dirty old men after you, cute and young as you are,” Sienna said, blowing smoke rings between words.  “They can’t have their own sons and daughters so they come out here and pay for someone else’s.”

To his dismay, he found she was right.  The first time was horrible.  It took place in a dark, damp alleyway that stank of rotting trash and rats.   The brick wall chafed his hands as the man shoved into him over and over, and the pain brought tears to his eyes.  When he was done, the nameless, faceless man threw money at him and left before Zitao had even finished pulling his pants back up.  He felt used, degraded, and was in terrible agony for days afterward, but he was two hundred dollars richer after a single encounter. 

When he was sufficiently healed, he went back to the corner.  Sienna wasn’t out, but some of the girls he remembered from before were.  There was also another young man, in his early twenties.  The girls called him Twink, because he was effeminate and fairyish.  Zitao wondered if he was gay; he couldn’t stomach the thought of sex with a woman, but so far, his limited experience with sex with other men hadn’t been too good, either.

Esmeralda took a liking to him, and offered him cigarettes that usually contained things other than just tobacco.  With his final goal of returning to Wushu in his mind, Zitao refused her politely.  “It gets easier,” she told him, his second night out.  It was a slow night; Twink and Rainbow Brite were the only ones who’d been picked up, and two other girls, with Esmeralda and Zitao, were left huddled on the corner of the downtown intersection.  The girls wore things like fishnet stockings and short skirts with no underwear.  They carried no cell phones or purses or anything that might be construed as valuable and could be stolen – only themselves.  Zitao pitied them, and then hated himself for it.  They’d all chosen this profession with clear minds and free will. 

Even himself.

The second time wasn’t much better than the first.  The man at least had to the courtesy to take him to a cheap motel room, but the pain was the same.  Zitao returned to the corner with Esmeralda when he was done, wondering what he could do with the money.

“If you had a pimp, you’d give it to him and he’d keep it for you.  Or himself, if he was a bad one.  Most of the guys who work the girls out here are alright.  You could talk to Twink’s pimp; he’s not too bad.”

“I thought you said it gets easier,” was all Zitao said.  His skin felt hot and too tight.  Esmeralda gave him a pitying look.

“I did say easier, sweetheart, not better,” she said, gently.


	4. Chapter Four

  **Chapter Four**

Paying for his lessons several months in advance was the only way Zitao could make the system work.  He was deathly afraid that each night he went back to the base with so much money, someone would roll him or Zed would be there and shake him down for it.  The Masters were afraid for him, and finally began questioning where the money was coming from.

Deeply ashamed, Zitao could only tell them that he was earning it honestly, and it was mostly true – he’d given up thieving because Zed would have murdered him if he’d continued and gotten caught.  And it wasn’t as though he were selling other people’s property; he was only selling himself.  After a few months, it ceased to hurt, and he stopped caring.  The body was only a shell, after all.  And the whoring was only a way to earn the money to continue doing what he loved – learning Wushu.

It was, nearly a year after Zed’s takeover, the only thing that gave him any happiness anymore.  He stopped talking to everyone, and avoided being at the base whenever he could.  He spent most of his free time with the girls on the corner, whether he was working with them or not.  And every minute he could, he spent training with the Masters.  There was always something new to learn, a better way of spinning or kicking or swordplay or staff-fighting.  He worked his body at Wushu until he nearly collapsed, and then dragged himself home to sleep for a while before going to visit with the girls, or work.  

Sienna took a little too much powder up her nose one night, and another friend was lost to death.  Zitao figured it was because he loved her, and vowed never to love anyone again.  He would rather spend his days as a Wushu master, or perhaps a Tibetan monk on a snowy mountain, than watch anyone else die.

It was around that time, too, that the first man offered him five hundred dollars if he’d let him smack him around a bit while he fucked. 

He was feeling stupid and violent in the wake of Sienna’s death, and he needed the money.  He agreed.  The body was, after all, only a shell. 

That man nearly broke his nose.  Word somehow got around, and it wasn’t long before others were also offering huge sums of money for the violence.  Zitao wondered what Mica would have thought to see him like this – on his knees, tied to a broken-down mattress in a cheap, stinking motel room, while some fat businessman struck him repeatedly with a belt – and then found himself relieved that he didn’t have to know.  Mica, he thought, wouldn’t have approved. 

He wondered sometimes if he was going to die like that.  He almost never thought of his father anymore, but he did find a sort of bitter irony in the fact that he’d started life as an abused child and was growing into an abused teenager.  He wondered if life with his father would have been any better than the one he was living now. 

Things changed one night when his trick asked him to go to a party with him.  Esmeralda might have known how to handle the question, but she was off with one of her johns.  With no idea how to refuse, Zitao agreed. 

It was, it turned out, a special type of party.  The man explained that he just needed a pretty sub to parade around for a few hours and maybe play with for a bit.  Zitao sat quietly in the car and listened to him explain what would be required. 

He offered nearly a thousand dollars for the privilege, but warned that other men might not be so generous.  He also said that if Zitao were willing to contract as his sub full time, he would pay the thousand dollars a week, and give him free time on the weekends. 

It seemed to be the perfect setup as he watched the city lights roll by.  Weekends to himself, a thousand a week paychecks… and all he had to do was play nice and submissive. 

He agreed.  The man wanted to be known by his stage-name only, and so Zitao began calling him Airen, when he called him anything at all. Mostly his job was to be silent.  He learned the lesson the hard way when he accidentally let a comment slip out and Airen responded with a whipping – using a real whip.  His back ached for days, but he was careful not to allow himself to speak without permission again. 

For the most part, it wasn’t bad.  He hurt most often, but Airen allowed him to live in his house, and he didn’t have to go back to the gang.  Everyone who mattered was already gone, and he knew it was for the best.  Everything fell apart when Airen announced he was going to Japan for six months, and wouldn’t be able to take care of Zitao anymore.  It was terrifying mostly because he didn’t want to be forced back to the streets, or return to the gang.  Airen came through for him as best he could, arranging for him to sub for another man.

Zitao never even learned his name.  He was there for three weeks before the man was passing him on to someone else.  The third man who took him in was cruel, but it didn’t immediately show.

“The first rule of my house,” he explained, “is that subs are to be seen and not heard.  I don’t care what your complaint is.  You will not speak without direct permission.  You may not sigh.  You may not moan.  You may make no sound whatsoever unless I give specific permission to you, do you understand?”

Zitao nodded.  The man smiled.  At first, it looked like a pleasant expression, but it didn’t take him long to discover otherwise.

“Very good.  The second rule is that subs do not stand in my presence.  You will kneel at all times unless instructed otherwise.” 

Zitao sank to his knees.  It would be no hardship. 

“The third rule is that your eyes must never leave the floor.  All rules are inflexible unless directly overridden by a command from me, do you understand?”

Zitao nodded again, silently.  He tried to keep his eyes down, but as the man, who gave his name only as Shen, began to pace around him, Zitao found it harder to obey this rule.  He’d been there less than a day.  He just wasn’t comfortable with Shen behind him, or out of his direct – or indirect, as the case may be – sight. 

“The fourth rule is that I am the Master,” Shen said, and Zitao was rocked violently forward by a sudden blow across his shoulders.  “That means that if I want to fuck you dry until you bleed, I will.  If I want to strike you just because I’m having a bad day, it is my prerogative to do so.  You will obey me in all things, or you will be punished.  Perform well, however, and I will reward you.  I ask only for complete submission, and satisfaction in everything.  Do you have questions?  You may speak.”

“No, master,” Zitao said.  “No questions.”  He licked his dry lips, and swallowed, trying to get some moisture back in his mouth.  It didn’t occur to him to be frightened.

“Very good.  Suck me off.”

Surprised, Zitao maneuvered himself so that he could unfasten the trousers and begin.  He used everything he’d learned on the streets, both by himself and from the girls who had been his friends, but nothing worked.  Shen simply would not respond to him.  Afraid that he was going to be hit for failing already, he tried harder. 

“You’re not doing a very good job,” Shen said.  “Wait here.”  He went to a cabinet in the corner, and withdrew a key from a chain around his neck to unlock it.  From within, he pulled several small, silver bits of metal and something that dangled leather straps.  Zitao remained where he was, watching carefully out of the corner of his eye so that he could drop his gaze if Shen turned around too fast.  The leather straps turned out to be attached to a sort of cage, and Zitao nearly broke the first rule by asking what it was meant for.

He held his silence, and quickly found out.  It tightened painfully over his manhood and the straps attached it to his legs and waist, preventing it from coming off.  A tiny padlock went on it last, and Shen gave it a slight tug.  Zitao’s eyes watered, and through the blur of pained tears, he saw Shen begin to harden, untouched. 

“You are never ever to come without permission,” Shen said.  “You may not even touch yourself.  This will allow bodily functions that are necessary and nothing else.  One reward you may earn is freedom from the cage, if you perform well.” 

He tugged it again and Zitao hissed quietly as sharp agony shot through him.  It wasn’t an outright noise, however, and Shen let it pass.  The next thing he held out were only a few centimeters across; there were two of them, with a length of chain between them.  Zitao’s lips formed the shape of a question but he remembered himself at the very last second and did not voice it.  Shen opened one of the small metal devices and laid it gently against his chest, before tightening it again.  Zitao’s mouth dropped open in surprise; it hurt, too.  He’d never paid much attention to his chest, or realised that it could be as sensitive as a girl’s. 

Fully erect now, Shen repeated his order.  This time, as he pulled on the chain and the straps and twisted Zitao’s body in pain, it didn’t take long at all.

It wasn’t long after, either, that Zitao realised that Shen was aroused by his pain, and nothing else. 

 

He was, even Zitao had to admit, inventive.  The clamps, with their chain dangling between them, and the cage remained on him almost all the time.  Sometimes Shen took his pleasure by tying Zitao up and hoisting him off the floor with a series of pulleys before standing on him; sometimes weights were hung from the chain, making tears well up in his eyes as he struggled to bite back his voice. 

Other times it was simple; a whip, a club, a paddle, a flogger.  He was rarely rewarded, because Shen found it so much more erotic to punish him.  Sometimes he was punished for no reason at all.  He was, patently, miserable, but it was nearly two years later that he finally found deliverance from Shen’s untender mercies.

“You’re getting too old,” Shen told him, point blank.  His body was growing, beginning to change, and Shen no longer found him attractive.  He was passed on like so much trash. 

The next master who took charge of him was a businessman named Marto who enjoyed displaying him for his colleagues.  He would have ‘parties’ in which Zitao would be put on display.  They regularly used him, beat him – whatever they felt like doing.  And Zitao, with two years of Shen’s rules literally beaten into him, bore it in silence. 

“You are less than a person, Hu-zi,” Marto said, using the half-name Shen had given him.  “You are just a hole for me to fuck.”  He spoke with a heavy accent, and his eyes were as black as his soul.  “Tell me what you are,” he demanded.

“Just… a hole,” Zitao said, and as Marto reinforced the words with blows, Zitao thought back over the course of his life and realised it was true.  There was nothing good about him, nothing good in his life; he’d killed his parents with his inadequacy, and then turned to a life of crime on the streets, stealing from people.  He remembered the first woman he’d ever helped rob, and wondered what she was doing with her life.  He knew, deep inside, that because he’d loved them like family, Tandem, Catty and Mica lost their lives in the takeover Zed perpetrated on their gang.  The only thing he’d ever been good at was fucking people, or rather, letting them fuck him. 

The words settled deep into his soul.  That night, he cried himself to sleep, and wondered if the rest of his life was going to be just an endless series of men and women who wanted to use him.  Then he wondered if he deserved anything else. 

Two days after his fourteenth birthday, Zitao was the ‘guest of honour’ at one of Marto’s parties.  Afterward, one of the guests spoke to Marto, and suddenly Zitao found himself packed up and leaving with him. 

“I couldn’t stand to see you there any longer,” the man said, whose name was David.  He was another foreigner, but his smile was friendly, and he encouraged Zitao to talk.  He, too, wanted Zitao as his sub, but suddenly it was in a whole new way.  Instead of sex, David wanted massages.  He wanted a warm drink when he came home on cold evenings, and a warm body in bed with him.  But just to sleep.  Utterly baffled, Zitao did the best he could.  He didn’t dare disobey, for fear that David would change his mind and send him back to the streets, or worse, back to Marto. 

“I’ll only ever love one person,” David confided to him one night.  They were cuddling on the sofa, a fire crackling in the fireplace while snow fell outside.  “And he died.  You’re about the same size, though, and I just need… help getting through the night.  The doctors were getting worried for me.  I’m glad you’re here, Zitao.”

And oddly, he was glad to be there.

David asked him all sorts of questions, getting fed up when Zitao sometimes refused to answer if not given explicit permission to speak.  “I’m not going to beat you up,” he said impatiently.  “I just want to talk to you sometimes.”

“Yes, sir,” Zitao said, but a longtime, bone-deep terror closed his throat and he was unable to get the words out louder than a whisper. 

“Do you have any hobbies?  Outside of… being a sub, I mean.  I mean, oh hell, that came out all wrong.”

Despite himself, Zitao was charmed by David’s curiousity.  “I used to love Wushu,” he said, and then shrank back, terrified that he would be punished.  David merely stroked his hair and looked thoughtful.

“Why did you stop?”

Zitao couldn’t answer.  David pressed him, even going so far as to deliberately tell him he was allowed to speak – and as Zitao knew David hated treating him like a sub,  _knew_  what it must have cost the older man to say it to him.  “My dojo Masters kicked me out,” he said, and embarrassed himself with the tears that welled up.  “When they found out – what I was doing.”

They’d said it was a betrayal of his body, of his essential self.  They could not teach someone who held his self and his health in such low regard as to sell it like so much goods on the street, no matter how desperate he was. 

“Do you want to go back to it?”

“More than anything,” Zitao said, fervently, and then glanced nervously at David.  He merely smiled.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The first of David’s two surprises was a reintroduction to Wushu.  Unbeknownst to Zitao, he discovered a new dojo that was willing to accept Zitao based on his prior performance – not what his life choices were.  Zitao returned to it like a duck to water, and then followed a period of happiness that outshone everything he’d ever known before. 

It was his habit of singing to himself as he practiced every morning that eventually lead to David’s other surprise.

At first, it was severely unpleasant. 

“You know I’m going back to America soon,” he said one night; they lay cuddling in the bed, Zitao marveling anew that someone could want him in bed with them and not want him in any other way. 

The words struck a shard of ice directly into Zitao’s heart.  He withdrew slightly and nodded. 

“I don’t want you to go back to … what you were doing,” he continued.  “I’ve found someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

 

That was how Zitao found himself nervously anticipating Lee Jinjoon, a recruiter for an entertainment company based out of Korea, but looking to expand their fanbase.  Following instructions, he sang a little, and danced a little.  Then David said, “Wushu,” and Zitao performed one of his practice katas.

Lee Jinjoon’s mouth dropped open in pure astonishment.  “We’ll take him,” he said.  With David acting as his legal guardian, Zitao was signed over to the entertainment company as a trainee, and shipped to Korea to begin a rigorous program including dance lessons, singing lessons, acting lessons, and most importantly – and most difficult for him to master – Korean language and culture lessons.

For the first two weeks, he immersed himself in televised dramas, trying to rely on the subtitles as little as possible.  Jinjoon, as his recruiter, was placed in charge of him, and encouraged him to socialize.  Zitao was unsure of the others – he’d heard rumours already of the unchecked bullying, teasing, and other unpleasant details that all new trainees were subject to – until Jinjoon informed him that there were other Chinese trainees there that would help him adjust.

Zitao reluctantly agreed to be introduced to them.

Zhang Yixing was familiar with television and public performances from an early age.  He introduced himself as Lay, the name they’d given him to use if he ever debuted.  Zitao’s name was simply shorted to Tao, as Zitao was deemed too hard to pronounce.   Another trainee who looked like a woman but exuded masculinity gave his name only as Luhan.  Tao was nearly positive that the last one he saw wasn’t Chinese at all, but American – his hair was blond, and he was at least six feet tall.  Tao felt like a child just looking at him from across the room, and then the final foreign trainee turned around and Tao felt the world stop spinning beneath his feet for the space of a full heartbeat. 

The man was beautiful.  Raw, powerful, edgy… He took Tao’s breath away simply by being in the same room. 

“Hey,” he said, and Tao nearly swooned to hear his voice.  “I’m Wu Yifan.  Call me Kris.”

 

*

 

Kris was enjoying trainee life.  It was hard, constant work, but as he saw himself improving he also felt a sense of personal accomplishment.  One of his favourite parts was meeting the new trainees.  The Chinese trainees had formed their own little clique, mostly as a defense mechanism against the rampant bullying from the Korean trainees, and Kris had become the de facto leader of it – he suspected because he was the tallest and therefore most imposing, but none of the others would confirm or deny his theory.  His first impression of the new kid, Tao, was that of a scared little mouse.  They’d been told he’d been studying martial arts from a young age, but he walked with a slight hunch in his shoulders, as though he were expecting to be beaten at any moment, and flinched away from shadows.  Loud noises scared him, and Kris was absently wondering how he’d ever made it into the company. 

There was something appealing about his wide, guileless eyes, however – they seemed to go down a long way, as though there were unfathomable secrets locked away within Tao’s soul.  Despite the jumpiness, Kris was drawn to him. 

And because he spent so much time watching the younger boy, he was the first – and the only – one who noticed some …peculiarities about him. 

He absorbed the fact that Tao never volunteered a comment when they gathered in the common room to rest after dance practice.  In fact, he never spoke at all unless asked a direct question.  He also didn’t handle abstracts too well; Kris was curious, and made a conscious decision to cultivate a friendship with the reclusive trainee.

He started one night after vocal lessons.  Tao was on the couch, supposedly studying Korean by watching an historical drama, and Kris helped himself to the other cushion, noting with interest the way the other boy drew away ever-so-slightly when he sat too close. 

“Whatchya watchin’?”

“The television,” Tao replied, somewhat hesitantly.  “Do you want to watch something…?”

Kris shook his head and stretched out.  “I’m good with this.  Just tell me what’s going on real quick.”  He listened with half an ear as Tao stammered, stuttered, and spluttered his way through a disjointed rundown of who was who and what they were doing.  He was more interested, he realised, in Tao himself.  Where had he come from?  Why was he so afraid?  And what were the secrets hinted at in his haunted eyes?

The next day at breakfast, Kris sought out the martial artist once again.  “What’s your favourite colour?” he asked, out of the blue.  He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and Tao looked as if he was ready to bolt from the room. 

“What?”

Kris leaned closer, and watched as Tao flinched, physically recoiling from his nearness.  “Your favourite colour,” he repeated.

“Oh.  I… don’t have one.”

It was a bizarre answer.   _Who doesn’t have a favourite colour?_  Kris wondered.  When Tao didn’t seem likely to volunteer anything else, Kris gave a mental shrug and simply began talking.  “Mine has always been blue,” he said.  “Particularly the colour of the sky on a clear, sunny day.  It’s very soothing, and pretty to look at.”

Tao was looking at him as if he’d sprouted a second head that spoke Russian.  Kris soldiered on.

“I also find green to be very appealing,” he said, somewhat brainlessly, and then, looking at Tao’s eyes, “And black.   That’s a new favourite of mine.” 

Two days later, Tao turned up wearing a shirt that was the exact colour of the sky.  It even had white clouds on it.  It was on the tip of Kris’s tongue to bring it up at least ten times in the first hour, but he felt like he’d made some progress and didn’t want to send Tao running for the hills again.  He’d just had his hair lightened, and he found the younger boy staring at it, faintly bewildered.  After dinner that night, Tao turned to him and took a deep breath, as though he were about to reveal the secrets of the universe.

“Yellow,” he said, completely out of the blue.

“What?”

With his eyes focused just over Kris’s left shoulder, Tao said, “Yellow,” again.  And then:  “My favourite colour is yellow.” 

After that bizarre exchange, Tao excused himself and went to bed.  Kris fingered a few strands of his hair and smiled to himself. 

The next day, he asked what Tao’s favourite food was. 

The response, “I don’t have one,” was expected.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Tao couldn’t understand Kris.  It was like dealing with an alien.  He exuded power and masculinity like an aura, but he was quick to smile and laugh and share dirty jokes with Luhan.  He seemed to enjoy Tao’s presence, which was baffling, because Tao wasn’t offering him sex.  In his limited experience – David notwithstanding – men wanted him for one thing and one thing only.  But Kris merely asked him random questions. 

“What’s your favourite season?” was one.  “If given a choice between the forest or the ocean, which would you choose to visit?” was another.  “Do you prefer cats or dogs?” a third.  They seemed to have no relationship to anything else – he never felt as though Kris was judging him.  It was almost as if – like Kris wanted to get to know him.  That opened up an entirely new can of worms, and Tao actually skipped his lesson one morning when he realised it, because the implications rocked him to his core.  What if Kris was interested in getting to know him, and found that there was nothing to know?

He yearned to ask Kris what the point of the questions were, and if he were passing the test, but he still woke in the middle of the night from bad dreams of huge men who told him he wasn’t good enough.  And the more random the question Kris asked, the more he realised how he  _wanted_  to be good enough.  For the first time in years, he remembered his father, and how the man had beaten him for bringing home bad grades.  He wanted to ask Kris if the same thing had ever happened to him, or if he was a perfect student who never made bad marks in school.  He found, however, that when he tried to initiate the conversation, his throat would close up and his eyes would prickle and his muscles would tense up in anticipation of a blow that never fell.  There was always a possibility, however.  Kris outweighed him by almost thirty kilos, and it wasn’t because Kris was fat in any way.  It was just that Tao was so incredibly skinny.

The start of his third week as a trainee took him by surprise, because it introduced the Korean element.  The time had flown by so quickly that he could hardly believe that he’d been living and eating and sleeping as a trainee for twenty three whole days so far.  Memories of his own inadequacies had halfway convinced him that they’d kick him out before the first seven days passed. 

They hadn’t.  But he soon wished they had.  It started when he came back from dance practice and found that someone had liberally spread honey and feathers over every available surface in their dorm room.  The mattresses, couch, and kitchen were ruined unusable.

“ _Go home you Chinese Freaks!_ ” was scrawled in honey across one wall.  The company trainers got involved, but as no one knew who the culprits were, there was nothing to be done except to send for a cleaning crew and to move the boys to a new room.  The next vandalism was superglue.  The sheets were glued together, the doors were glued shut, their shoes were glued to the walls…

Tao began to despair.  It seemed inevitable that someone would pinpoint him as the cause of the attacks and kick him out.  Luhan seemed to find it funny, and used the immobilized footwear to literally climb up the walls.  They were moved again, security cameras were set up in their rooms, and all trainees were warned that anyone caught sneaking into other dorms and vandalizing them would be expelled from the company.  The attacks slowed down after that, but were renewed later with a more personal touch.

One hulking Korean boy heard rumours that all of the Chinese trainees were there specifically to debut with a certain group.  He cornered Tao in the locker rooms.

“What makes you so special?” he demanded.  “I’ve been here five years!  You’re just a squint-eyed freak, so why are you debuting and not me?”

Tao wanted to say,  _Because your head is filled with rocks, and they’ve got more sense than that,_  but long-developed personal survival instincts warned him that he’d only be in more trouble if he opened his mouth.  He also refused to comment on whether or not he’d debut with a group.  Sure, the rumours were there, but then, the rumours were  _always_  there.  Faced with Tao’s unwavering silence, the other boy lost his temper and shoved him, hard.  Tao tripped backwards over the bench and stumbled into the lockers on the other side of the room.  He knew he’d probably bruise later, and he was fairly sure that he could actually take the other boy down if it came to an all-out brawl, but the Masters had always advised him that Wushu was an art devoted to the betterment of self, not a fighting style to be employed against other people. 

He’d also recently found out that he enjoyed spinning through the air not only for the sense of control over himself that it endowed him with, but for the look of sheer amazement on Kris’s face when he’d first demonstrated it.  He didn’t dwell too hard on why it was suddenly important to keep Kris’s good opinion of him – he’d never much cared what people thought of him before – but instead just accepted it.  Kris was a golden angel who brightened every day like the sun.  It was just fact. 

So he allowed the other boy to push him around.  As Tao refused to fight back, the boy became more and more angry.  He hauled his fist back, and Tao flinched, squeezing his eyes shut so that he at least wouldn’t have to see it coming.  The sound of fist-hitting-flesh echoed through the bare locker room.  Tao waited for the pain, but it never came, and reluctantly opened his eyes.  There were four hands in front of his face and he blinked, drawing his head back to try and make sense of what was happening.  The bully came into focus and so did – Kris.  Tao blinked, surprised.  Kris had intercepted the blow with his own hand, catching the bully’s fist in his own before it struck Tao.  Neither of them had heard him approaching.  It was as if he’d appeared out of thin air. 

“Pick on someone your own size, bucket-head,” Kris said in a pleasant voice. 

“What?”

Kris flexed his arm and the bully dropped, howling, as Kris twisted his wrist painfully.  Tao was in awe; he’d never had anyone stick up for him before. 

“You’ll pay for this,” the bully whined, but like most bullies, he turned coward when overmatched, and fled.  Kris turned back to Tao when he was gone, and it was only then that Tao realised he was – dripping wet.  And practically naked; only a towel wrapped snugly around his waist gave any semblance of modesty. 

“You okay?” Kris asked.  Tao felt his mouth go dry at the deep rumble of Kris’s voice.  Combined with the sight of all that bare, golden skin, it was almost an aphrodisiac.  His head spun and the oxygen content of the room decreased rapidly.  Tao licked his lips once, managed to draw in a breath, and then lost it again as a droplet of water dripped from Kris’s hair and snaked its way over his collarbone.  He’d never found collarbones attractive before, but he suddenly found himself overwhelmed with a desire to lean forward and lick it. 

He felt his face flame as he resisted the urge.  “I-I-I’m fine,” he said, finally remembering that Kris had asked him a question.  “Sorry.  Sorry!” He turned his head and focused on the lockers behind them.  Kris was awfully close…    

“Don’t let them shove you around like that,” Kris advised.  “It’ll just keep getting worse if you make yourself an easy target.” 

There were so many things he wanted to say.  His early conditioning to remain silent won out over the bubble of words rising in the back of his throat, however, and he simply nodded.  “Okay,” he said, accepting the fact that it would eventually lead to trouble. 

 

*

 

After the rescue in the locker room, Tao took to following Kris around like a puppy.  Kris, who was more flattered by the attention than he would have admitted to anyone, allowed it without comment.  It was Luhan who pointed out that Tao seemed almost to orbit Kris. 

“It’s kinda weird,” Luhan said.  They were meant to be practicing their Korean but for privacy, he spoke Mandarin.  “He looks at you funny.  It’s almost like you’re the reason the sun rises.  You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed.”

Kris shook his head, bewildered.  “I’ve never noticed,” he said.  He knew Tao followed him, and if even so much as hinted that he wanted or liked something, Tao practically moved heaven and earth to get it for him.  He’d seen  _that_  because it was impossible  _not_  to.  Just yesterday, Lay had mentioned wanting a specific fruit juice that was difficult to obtain in Korea.  Kris had told him they’d find a way to get it if they had to order a case off the internet, and then less than an hour later, Tao turned up with four bottles of the stuff.  He’d flushed red and stammered when asked how he’d gotten them, and from where, but Yixing was ecstatic.  It was nothing, however, to the look on Tao’s face when Kris thanked him for the effort.  In hindsight, Kris realised, that expression might be what Luhan was talking about. 

“He’s almost like your servant,” Luhan continued.  “He really idolizes you for some reason.”

“I saved him from getting beaten up a few weeks ago,” Kris said.  “But that’s not enough of a reason for it.”

“Maybe,” Luhan said, noncommittally.  Kris shrugged, and the conversation got shunted to the back of his mind when their dance practices became more intense. 

 

With Tao a near-constant presence, Kris became aware of him in a way that went far beyond everyone else.  His every movement was a study in grace, but he wouldn’t look anyone in the face for more than a second or two.  He was powerfully good at his chosen martial art, but still reacted when startled as if he was about to be beaten within an inch of his life.  As the makeup artists began experimenting to find out what looked best on them, and his hair started turning up in different styles, Kris suddenly realised something completely separate:  Tao was  _hot._  

The way he walked – with his head down and his shoulders hunched – one never really realised how large his eyes were, or how beautiful his bone-structure.  He seemed short, as well, until he was made to stand straight in dance and Kris realised that he wasn’t as small as he seemed.  He’d been putting on weight, and no longer seemed like a skeleton in skin, and as his face filled out, it was nearly surprising.  Even Luhan commented on it.

“Tao’s looking good these days,” he said.  Lay looked up, surprised, and then glanced over at Tao, who was staring rapturously at the television and not paying attention. 

“He’s not so skinny anymore,” Lay added, before returning to his book. 

Luhan’s expression turned sly.  “Doesn’t he look good, Kris?”

At the sound of Kris’s name, Tao glanced over at them.  He saw Kris looking back at him, flushed, and averted his eyes almost immediately.  “Yeah,” Kris said, absently.  “Yeah, he is.”  


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

It was a rare free day, and Tao was in the midst of some serious introspection.  His budding friendship with the others – and his own reaction to it – was practically a mystery to him.  He knew from watching the others that it was normal, but normal for him was something the others had no idea even existed.  The only time his past had ever shamed him before was when his first dojo had kicked him out, but more recently, he was coming to realise that he really  _liked_  the other boys, and didn’t want them to find out. 

It made perfect sense, then, that Kris approached him that evening with a very peculiar expression on his face.  He couldn’t seem to look Tao directly in the face, and his skin was flushed.

“I’d like to… talk to you… about something,” he said, and for the first time since Tao had met him, sounded uncertain.  It made Tao nervous – Kris’s easy command and sense of certainty was one of the things that had originally drawn him to the older teen.  “Someone sent me… something.  It’s – you.  I think.  I just thought… you should see it.  Just to make sure.  You know.  I mean, I don’t think it’s you, it just… they said it was you, and I just…”

He trailed off.  With no clear idea of what Kris wanted, Tao decided it was probably safer to remain where he was.

“So, will you come… see this… with me?” Kris asked, haltingly.  He seemed to be catching on that Tao didn’t like to do anything unless specifically requested; Tao only hoped he never found out  _why._   He felt as though his past and his future were tearing him apart and he hated the feeling.  Part of him wanted to be the kind of person like Luhan was, outgoing and exuberant and eminently  _capable_  - the kind of person Kris might respect or admire.  Part of him wanted to crawl inside a hole and vanish.

He climbed to his feet and followed Kris into the dorm room, where his computer lived.  A video was up on the screen, paused.  The details weren’t clear – it appeared to have been shot on a home camera, apparently concealed behind a plant.  Some leaves were visible in the top part of the frame.  Kris restarted the video and pressed play. 

Tao recognised the video t once and felt all the blood in his face drain away.  It left him momentarily dizzy, and he clutched the bed post for support.   _How did he…?_

“That’s really you?”

Kris’s voice seemed to be coming at him from a long distance.  The images on the screen continued to play – Tao, slightly younger, was tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross while a man in a mask wielded a whip against his back.  Once, Tao’s face turned slightly and was clearly visible – and recognisable – on the screen.  Kris paused the video again.

“It came from an anonymous email,” he said.  Tao couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.  “Someone said they’d heard you were with the company now and thought… we should know.  I don’t… think it’s been sent anywhere else,” he added, his voice getting soft.  “But Tao… what – what  _was_  that?”

He couldn’t refuse a direct question.  He  _couldn’t._   He couldn’t lie, either, but maybe he could perhaps do some… damage control.  “Punishment,” he said, trying to keep his voice dispassionate.  “It was… punishment.”

He hated the taste of the half-lie.  It had been Marto with the whip, supposedly punishing him for failing to kneel fast enough, but Tao realised later that it was just because Marto enjoyed seeing people – particularly Tao – in pain.  He’d been pleasuring himself in between blows, before moving on to Tao himself.  It wasn’t clear if that part was included in the video.  From the length of the file, Tao suspected it was.  From the dazed, puzzled look on Kris’s face, he hadn’t gotten that far before stopping it to come and ask Tao to verify it. 

“Punish- That’s  _sick!_ ” Kris said, recoiling as it sank in.  Tao felt his withdrawal like a physical blow.  “What kind of a person does that to a little kid?  How old were you?”

It took a moment for  _that_  to sink in.  “What?”

“How old were you?” Kris repeated, his voice softer.  Tao realised they were getting their wires crossed.  Kris was disgusted – with  _Marto._   He was outraged on Tao’s behalf, not knowing the whole story.  And how could he, Tao, tell him that?  That eventually, he’d come to crave the beatings because at least someone was paying attention to him?  That he’d forced himself to enjoy the attention, no matter how negative, because the alternative was being locked in a small room for days without meals or human companionship.

In hindsight, Tao realised, it was no wonder the other trainees looked at him as if he was from a different planet.  With his two worlds suddenly colliding in Kris, he  _felt_  like he was from a different planet.  “Twelve?  Maybe eleven,” Tao said, belatedly answering Kris’s question.  His beautiful dark eyes narrowed in disgust, or anger – or both.  Tao recoiled reflexively, and Kris’s eyes became so narrow that Tao wondered if he could still see. 

“How long did that go on?”

“N-not long.”

“Why don’t I believe you?  What else are you hiding?  How could you just…  _let_  him – who was he?  What else did he  _do_  –” Kris’s voice was rising with each word.

He wanted to run away.  He wanted to die.  He wanted to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness.  He took a deep breath, instead, and knowing that he was signing his own death warrant – if Kris kept this to himself, Tao would be genuinely amazed, and the company would probably kick him out once they knew.  His only hope was that they’d send him back to China first, where he was at least fluent with the language.  With his heart in his mouth, he told Kris some of the things Marto had required of him.  The parties in which Marto would gain political favour with his coworkers by passing Tao around.  The endless rounds of punishment. 

When Kris staggered to his feet and lunged for him, Tao nearly bolted.  Instead of hitting him, Kris threw his arms around Tao and held him close. 

It reminded him of David – which in turn, somehow, reminded him of his mother. 

“Jesus Christ,” Kris whispered.  “How did you stay sane?”

Tao blinked dully at the wall behind Kris’s head.  “It wasn’t all that unusual, actually,” he said, and then his brain engaged and he struggled to free himself.  Kris, who still out-massed him, held him with ease.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tao bit down on his tongue to keep it from giving any more of his secrets away.  Kris took him up by the shoulders and shook him gently. 

“Answer me!”

It spilled out.  Everything.  Not details – he’d had enough of Kris’s disgusted face and didn’t need to give him fodder to present it some more – but the generalities of the things he’d gone through ever since he was little.  His father.  The gang, and stealing to earn enough money to buy food.  The takeover and Mica’s death.  The new gang.  The streets.  The whores.  The men.

When he was done talking, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited for Kris’s reaction.  More disgust, and perhaps rejection was what he was expecting. 

Instead, Kris held him tighter.  “Jesus Christ,” he said again.  “No wonder you’re so jumpy.”

 

*

 

Outrage.  That was the word.  He was utterly outraged that there were people out there who could do such atrocious things to a child.  But coming in right behind it – and this was shocking to Kris himself, who was feeling it – was admiration for Tao.  He’d gone through what seemed to be hell itself, and come out with nothing more than a few neuroses. 

It explained  _so much_  - and yet opened up an entirely new world of questions.  Kris, who’d always thought of himself as worldly and knowledgeable, was suddenly confronted with the fact that he didn’t know anything about anything. 

Tao was shaking and pale, but Kris thought it might have more to do with the revelation of his sordid past than anything else. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and then wanted to slap his palm against his forehead.  Of  _course_  he wasn’t okay, he’d been horribly abused before coming to Korea.  “I mean –”

“I’m fine,” Tao said absently.  Kris studied him for a long moment, then realised there was nothing he could do.  Tao had been living with the fact of his abuse for years.  A seventeen year old boy wasn’t going to be able to just hug him and make it better.  “I’m – I’m going to bed?”

He looked hesitant.  Kris wondered what he was asking for, and then remembered the video. He wanted to know what sort of things Tao had been put through to make him like this, and then realised that getting Tao back out of the way as soon as possible was probably the best course.  It would give him time to look things up.  “You can go,” he said.  “Good night.”

“Good night,” Tao repeated softly, and let himself out of the room.  Kris watched the door click shut behind him, and then turned back to his computer.  He deleted the video, and the email it had come in, and then pulled up a search engine.  He didn’t really think it would work, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of options. 

 

It turned out to be informative.  Two hours later, with Lay snoring in the bunk behind him, Kris closed his laptop and sat back, heaving a sigh.  He now knew more about BDSM than he realised even existed.  For most people, he knew also, it was a perfectly legitimate way of life, or even just an escape from the realities of life.  For Tao it seemed to have been something else, something not entirely healthy. 

 _Of course not.  Most people who become involved are consenting adults,_  he chastised himself.  If he could keep from picturing some of those things happening to  _Tao_ , he found that some of the visuals his research had uncovered were oddly… arousing.  He glanced over his shoulder at Lay, who continued to snore gently, and then took himself into the bathroom to take care of his –  _problem._

The next morning, he couldn’t get it out of his head.  He wanted to ask Tao more about it, but for the first time since Tao had arrived in the dorms, couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. 

Lay asked him why he was so twitchy all of a sudden, and let him stew for almost another full hour before relenting and letting Kris know that Tao had gone to the other dorm to mingle with some of the Korean trainees.  By this time, Kris knew how out of character that was for Tao, and he was beginning to have an inkling of why, and with a nameless lump of fear sitting in his stomach, he went to the other dorm to find him. 

A laughing-eyed boy who nearly matched Kris for height answered the door.  “Heyah,” he said.  “I’m Chanyeol.  You must be Kris.  Come on in, Tao’s around here somewhere.”  He held the door open and stepped back to allow Kris inside.

Feeling like he was stepping into the lair of the enemy – the Chinese trainees and native Korean trainees were notorious enemies for the most part, and Kris hadn’t forgotten the fiasco that lead to them moving to a new dorm after the superglue incident.  It wasn’t lost on him either that Chanyeol, no matter how friendly-seeming, might have been one of the perpetrators of the prank.  He was certainly tall enough to have glued their shoes to the wall. 

He heard laughter coming from another room, and followed Chanyeol through the hall.  One of the doors was open onto a bedroom with most of the furniture pushed up against the walls to clear the floor for a game of – Twister?

Kris felt his jaw drop as he realised that Tao was in the thick of it, laughing – actually  _laughing_  out loud – and smiling and generally seeming to enjoy himself.  They were communicating in a mangled mix of Chinese and Korean, with Luhan translating some of the messier bits.  Kris immediately realised that Luhan had probably Svengali’d Tao into slipping over to the Korean side; he was friendly and outgoing and was the only one of them who spoke fluent Korean yet, since he’d been studying it longer. 

Someone called out a greeting, Tao looked up, and then several things seemed to happen at once.  The smile dropped off his face like he’d just been caught in the act of committing a crime, his feet slipped out from under him, and then at least three other people went down with him as he hit the mat, hard.  Kris winced in sympathy as Tao not only hit the uncarpeted floor but was then crushed beneath the weight of the three other players combined. 

Apologies were made as they untangled themselves.  Once they’d all been sorted out, introductions were made.  Jongin, Minseok, and Baekhyun were the other players.  Luhan and another young man named Jongdae were apparently refereeing.  

“It’s really nice for you to come and visit us,” Minseok said.  “I know some of the other trainees have given us a bad reputation, but we’re not all that bad.”  He held out his hand for a western-style handshake.  Kris shook it, somewhat bemused.  He didn’t think it would go over very well if he said he was specifically looking for Tao.  Not, he realised suddenly, to rescue him from their dastardly clutches.  He hadn’t been worried about Tao spending time with the Koreans at all.  No, what had worried him was the fact that he still hadn’t worked out what impact Tao’s – unusual history – might have had on his interactions with them. 

Based on what he’d seen, none at all.  Luhan was like oil, greasing the way for good relations between the two nationalities.  It occurred to him that Tao had been doing just fine on his own until Kris showed up. 

“Luhan was telling us you’re kind of like Tao’s older brother.  We were expecting you a while ago, actually.”  The pretty one – Baekhyun was his name, Kris remembered – attached himself to Chanyeol’s side. 

Kris scowled.  “Yixing wouldn’t tell me where he was,” he muttered. 

“Aw, you were worried,” Luhan piped up, speaking in Chinese.  The Korean members glanced at him, curious.  Kris looked around the dorm room to keep from having to look any of them in the eyes.  “Do you want him back?”

“He’s not mine,” Kris said, immediately going on the defensive.  “I was just… wondering.  Now I know so… I’ll go.  Sorry,” he added in Korean.  “I didn’t really mean to interrupt.”

A chorus of voices spoke up.  “You don’t have to leave.  Where are you going?  Why not hang out for a bit?”

“Uh.”  He hadn’t really been intending to spend a lot of time with them.  He could see Tao withdrawing into himself the longer Kris stayed, and he couldn't bring himself to drag the other singer back to the other dorm, just to sate the paternal instincts that had dragged him over in the first place.  "I can't, I have things to do," he said finally, and left, mind whirling.  
  
 _Why did I just do that?_   He kicked himself mentally.  Now he felt like an interfering idiot.  Clearly, Tao was doing alright on his own, despite everything.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Tao followed him into the hallway and then lingered there in silence.  Kris waited for him to speak, but Tao simply stood there with eyes downcast.  Tired of waiting for him to speak, Kris turned and continued down the hall to their own dorm.   A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Tao trailing behind him, a Lost Child air hanging over his head like a cloud.

“Tao,” Kris said, impatient.  “Why are you following me?”

“I –”  His lips pressed into a thin line. 

“You don’t have to ask permission to talk to me,” Kris said, taking a stab in the dark as to what the problem was. 

“I know,” Tao whispered.  “It’s… I thought you wanted me away from them.”

Kris dug his fingers into his hair.  There  _had_  to be an expert out there somewhere who could help him deal with this.  “It’s not my place to dictate to you,” he said, instead of screaming. 

“But you’re –”

Grinding his teeth so hard he could almost hear them cracking, Kris said, “Finish your sentences, Tao.”

“You’re the leader, aren’t you?  You’re the biggest one, everyone looks up to you.”  The words spilled out in a rush.  “And I don’t mean just…physically, it’s like everyone looks to you to be the…leader.” He lapsed into silence.

“I’m just…”  _Pushy,_  his mind supplied.   _Overbearing. **Dominant?**   Is that what he sees?_

Kris looked at Tao, suddenly startled with his possible insight.

*

Tao wanted to cower on the ground like a kicked dog, but he knew from being around the others that most people didn’t do that.  He’d watched Yixing tackle Luhan to the ground over the issue of who got the last cookie, which Kris had settled by taking it – but not for himself.  He’d broken it into two pieces, told the children to stop fighting, and handed them each a piece of it.  But as soon as the fight was over and the cookies eaten, Luhan and Yixing were best friends again, hanging all over each other as if the fight hadn’t happened.  It was  _bizarre,_  for Tao.  Perfectly normal for them, and it didn’t end with one of them lying in broken, bleeding pieces on the ground.

He still hadn’t gotten over the shock of the video being sent to Kris.  It was always there in the back of his mind, pulsing like a second heartbeat.   _He knows.  He knows.  He knows.  He knows._

Kris knew – and had done nothing.  He treated Tao just the same – a little gentler, perhaps, but he hadn’t told anyone else.  Tao hadn’t found himself tossed out on his ear, released from the company. 

Kris wasn’t trying to use the authority he must have  _known_  he had, by now, and especially with Tao’s most recent confession.  He felt lighter whenever he said something to Kris.  Whether it was that Kris had to order it out of him, and he liked the feeling of someone else being in charge, or the weight of the burden lifting, he didn’t know.  But while half of him wanted to throw himself to the ground at Kris’s feet and pray he didn’t feel like kicking, the other half of him was just as likely to float away.  He pictured himself drifting up and bobbing along the ceiling like a balloon and had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

He glanced up quickly to take a measure of Kris’s mood.  He was terribly expressive – he wore his every feeling right there on his face.  The others couldn’t see it – or didn’t look – and called him stone-faced and cold, but even the brief glimpses Tao stole when Kris wasn’t looking revealed huge insights.  Right now, the expression was a mixture of  _What the hell?_  and …amusement? 

“Tao, I’m not the leader,” Kris said, and his lips twitched humorously for a moment, like he wanted to smile but was fighting it. 

 _Don’t ask permission,_  Tao told himself.   _Just say the words._   “You will be,” he blurted, and then flinched reflexively, waiting for the punishment that never came. 

Kris laughed instead.  “If you say so.”  His open expression suddenly became furtive.  “Tao, why did you leave the others?”

He opened his mouth and drew in a breath, but the words lodged in his throat.  He might have made a slight sound, but there was nothing intelligent in it; even to himself, it sounded like he was gagging.

Kris sighed, looking put-upon.  “You  _can_  talk to me,” he said, and just like magic, Tao could speak.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be with them,” he repeated. 

“I want you to do whatever makes you happy.”

Tao blinked, completely taken aback. 

“Do I have to say it like this?  I don’t know what I’m doing.   It’s an  _order,_ ” he said.  “Forever.  Whatever makes you happy is what you’re allowed to do.  If you want to go back and hang with them, go back.  If you want to stand on your head for an hour, do that.  Do  _whatever you want to._ ”

He did want to go back, somewhat.  He felt like he might have to stand on his head for an hour, but Kris hadn’t explicitly told him to.  Just said that if he wanted, he was  _allowed._   But then he ran into another problem.  He’d built his life doing what  _other_  people wanted him to do.  How did he decide what  _he_  wanted? 

Kris was beginning to look fed up, and Tao decided that discretion was the better part of valour when it came to asking that question aloud.  He might be better off with the others, the Korean boys.  They all swore that they hadn’t had anything to do with the nasty pranks that had been played, but they’d been willing to take bets on who it had been, and even batted around suggestions for retaliation.  

Then they’d roped him into the Twisted game, which had been something he was  _good_  at.  His Wushu – and other, more sordid past details - kept him limber enough to get into all sorts of positions and hold them comfortably.  He’d won the first few rounds easily, and found himself smiling, even laughing, involuntarily.  Then Kris had walked in.  It was like ice being dropped down his back, and he was instantly aware that he hadn’t asked to play, hadn’t been told it was allowed.  When Kris admitted to looking for him, he was devastated.  Kris had wanted him for something, and he hadn’t been available.  He’d been here, without permission,  _playing_  when Kris needed him.  This was unforgivable.  He followed Kris, expecting to be yelled at and instead…

There was no doubt that Kris was an amazing person.  He made Tao want to be better, just to be near him without feeling like he was polluting the air. 

Speaking without direct permission was still hard, though, no matter what he felt like.  “I – I’ll … go back,” Tao said.  The smile on Kris’s face was hard to define.  It was pleased, but not in a way that made Tao feel unwanted.  It was also relieved.  He couldn’t tell why.  He wished he was more well-versed in reading Kris’s moods.  He just hadn’t had time to learn them all yet. 

 

It was nearly a week after the Twister Incident when Kris voluntarily approached him once more.

“Tao, can I … talk to you?  Please?  Uh.  Alone?”

He looked awkward and gangly and mature and tall and even somewhat beautiful.  There was nothing in his demeanor to suggest that Tao was in trouble, and in fact, he’d gotten the distinct impression that Kris didn’t want to treat Tao like a sub.  The only problem was, he had no idea how to be treated as anything else.  Suppressing a frisson of fear, Tao rose and followed Kris into the bedroom, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kris locked the door behind them. 

“I don’t want anyone accidentally walking in on us,” Kris explained, and Tao suddenly wondered if he’d somehow misread Kris all this time, if he’d had time to assimilate what the video meant, and was about to – to force himself –

“I just want to talk to you,” Kris said, almost as if he were reading Tao’s mind.  “I’ve been doing some research… online… but I don’t… I mean, I think…  _Fuck._ ”  He smiled, but it wasn’t a happy expression.  “I had this planned out in my head for two days,” he explained.  “And now I can’t remember what I mean to say.”

Tao couldn’t think of anything to say, either, and remained silent. 

“Okay.  Well.  So, it’s like this.  Um.  How do you feel about going to a – a club.”  He pronounced the word carefully, like he’d never heard it spoken out loud before.  “Um, with me.  So that… we can… help … you…?  Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered suddenly.  Tao jumped as Kris threw himself down onto the nearest mattress.  “This sounds terrible.  I swear,” he said, and his eyes gleamed with his sincerity.  “I swear to  _God_  that I’m not trying to proposition you.  But we both know you can’t keep going on like this.  Can you  _say_  something, please?”

“Something,” Tao said immediately, and then wanted to sink into a hole in the floor and die.  Clearly that was  _not_  what Kris meant and he was really in for it now and –

Kris was laughing.  “Cool.  Way to break the tension.  Okay, so you get what I’m saying?”

Tao nodded.  “No,” he said.

The sound of skin meeting skin nearly echoed in the otherwise silent room.  Tao flinched, reflexively, then looked to make sure Kris hadn’t hurt himself when he slapped his face into his hands. 

“I don’t know how to be the kind of person who can help you!  We need to go somewhere and find someone who knows how to… be a …” he waved his hands vaguely, inviting Tao to fill in the blank.

Based on the gestures, Tao ventured a guess. “A duck?”

“A dom!”

The word hung in the air between them.  Kris’s face was white, and he was staring at Tao like he was afraid of him. 

“Someone who can help me help you be… normal.  To not be scared all the time.  Is that something you … might want?”

He still didn’t have a firm handle on his own wants.  It was an uphill battle just remembering that he was allowed to want things now.  One thing was absolutely certain, though:  it would make him more acceptable to Kris if they went through with it, and he learned to be ‘normal’ as Kris defined it.

“Yes,” he heard himself saying.  “That’s something I might want.”

*

Kris took in the grungy exterior of the building and wondered if they had the right address after all.  It didn’t look like a sex club – not that he’d been to one before.  It didn’t look like much of anything except a grimy brick wall with a large steel door and the numbers of the address mounted just to the side of it.  He knocked hesitantly on the door, and then jumped back as he waited for it to swing wide and reveal – what?

He didn’t know.  But the door didn’t budge.  Kris pressed his ear up against it and could hear music, very faintly.  He looked at Tao, who had his usual blank, default expression on his face.   _Well, here goes nothing…_

He pulled the door open wide, and they stepped inside.  It was a dark hallway, with two other doors.  One was an empty office-type room, and they wandered down the hall to where the music was coming from.  That door swung open and revealed the club.  Kris felt his heart leap up into his throat, but Tao looked like he was relaxing.

“Oh,” he said.  Kris nearly bit his head off.  Restraining himself, he forced a deep breath.

“Oh, what?” he asked.

“This is a nice club,” Tao said, and Kris looked around.  Most of the stages were empty, but a few had people tied down to various things while other people beat them with paddles or whips.  No one looked like they were trying to escape. 

“How did you find this place?”  A man in a mask appeared before them so suddenly he might have teleported there.  His arms were crossed over his chest and he scowled up at Kris, who was amused to note that he had a few centimeters of height on the other man.  “You’re both clearly too young to be here.  You need to leave.”

“Wait,” Kris said, as the man moved to escort them back out.  “Please.  I know we’re too young, but we’re not here for – that,” he said, and waved his hand at one of the stages.  “It’s my friend.  Are you… I need to talk to the owner or the manager, someone in charge, because I need some help.”

The masked man drew himself further up.  Kris had to stifle the urge to check and see if he was standing on his tip-toes.  “I am the manager  _and_  the owner.  And I’m going to throw you out of here unless you can give me a  _very_  good reason not to.”

“I don’t know anything about this,” Kris said, realising that now he was here, he had no idea what to say.  It all made sense sitting in front of a computer screen in his dorm room, safe and snugly secure from all the evils in the world.  “All I can say is that my friend has been… abused.  Badly.  And I’m trying to help him – uh – get over it.”

Dark eyes searched his from beneath the mask.  It was silver and ornately trimmed with vines and leaves, covering his face from his forehead down to his upper lip.  The hint of a beard darkened the man’s jaw.  “Abused how,” he asked finally.

“I don’t know.  He’s… well, submissive.  And his doms… they weren’t… he was really young, when they started,” Kris blurted, and wished he didn’t have to talk about it in the middle of the club in front of  _anyone_  who might be passing by.  The man’s face came up and he shifted his gaze to Tao, who was visibly fighting the urge to kneel.  He’d wrapped his arms tightly around his body, and glanced up in short bursts before looking back toward the floor.  His shoulders were hunched as though he was expecting to be hit.  Nothing unusual, for Tao, Kris realised, and wondered what the owner would see and think.

“What’s his name?”

“Tao.”

The man moved around Kris like he wasn’t there.  “Tao!”  His voice cracked like a whip.  Tao spun around to face him but immediately dropped to the ground.  Kris stepped forward, worried, but the man held up a hand and stopped him.  “Get up.  You’re not mine.  I need to talk to you.”  His voice gentled, and Kris found himself with a growing nugget of respect for him.  “Will you come with me to my office?”

Tao nodded and rose gracefully.  Kris started to follow, but a single look from the hawk-eyed masked man stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Stay by the bar,” he said.  “I’ll want to talk to you after.”  He escorted Tao to a dark corner of the room, where they both disappeared into a door.  Kris watched after them for a long moment, and then went to find the bar that had been mentioned.   A young Hispanic man was behind the bar, spinning bottles over his wrists.

“ _Hola chico,_  you new?”

Kris stared at him, baffled.  “Uh, I guess?”

“What’s your name?  Are you even old enough to be in here?”

“Nearly,” Kris said.  “I’m Kris.”

“Angel,” the man said, giving it the proper Spanish pronunciation  _Anhel_.  “Most people use fake names – I’m thinking Angela or Angelica?”

“What?”

“You look like a man in over his head,” he said.  “I’m pre-op.  Guess you can’t tell from  behind the bar.”  The bartender stepped fully into the light, and Kris realised he might be talking to a deep-voiced woman.  It was definitely a skirt and high heels he was seeing on those legs, and there was nothing manly about the shape of them.  “You not gonna judge, right?”

“For what?”

“Do you even understand?”

“No,” Kris said, helplessly.

The bartender pulled a glass down and filled it with something.  “Have a seat, boyo.  Some people, they’re born in the wrong body, see?  Girls at heart, male by birth.  That’s me.  I want to have the operation done so I’m not just considered a cross-dresser, but I need a new name, too, and wanted something I can relate to.”

“Angelica’s a terrible name,” Kris said, thinking of an old cartoon.  “But what about something more foreign sounding, like Angelique?”

The bartender’s face lit up.  “Angelique!  I love it, it’s perfect!   Thank you.  So,” she – he? – went on.  “Tell me your story now, and why you’re here.”

Kris looked around.  The door to the supposed office was still closed, and everyone else was involved with their own scenes.  Taking a sip of the drink – and wrinkling his nose at the sugary sweetness of the soda – Kris shrugged and let the story out.  It was almost a relief to share it with someone who might understand.  Keeping the knowledge of Tao’s impure past away from the other trainees was beginning to make him feel like Atlas holding up the world. 

“And I found this place on a list of clubs in the area,” Kris said, winding down.  “And thought that maybe there’d be someone here willing to help.”

“Sarang’ll do it.  He’s got a heart a mile wide, but don’t ever suggest it to him, because he’ll sick Siyah on you.”

Kris was baffled.  “What’s a Siyah?”

“His best friend and co-owner.  She’s a domme and  _not_  someone I’d want to get in front of.  She knows how to do things with electricity and shit.  Not if I were the manliest man alive today would I want to get in front of her, and I’ve been told she’s got bigger balls than even Sarang.”

Kris snickered in spite of himself.  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said.  “I’m not interested in any of this stuff, myself.  I just want to know how I can help Tao.”

“If there’s a way, Sarang will do it,” Angel- Angelique?  - said. 

“So what should I actually call you now that you’ve confused me?” Kris asked, wanting it out of the way before he embarrassed himself.

“Angelique.  I like the way you say it.  And if you’d rather, think of me as a girl.”  He winked saucily.  “I do.”

Kris nodded and turned around to look for Tao again.  “Alright, Angelique, then how did you – Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”  The words burst out of him at the sight of a woman dressed from head to toe in a skintight leather suit and high heels so high that her feet were toes-down.  

“ _Kris,_ ” Angelique said, shocked, and then Kris found himself with a face full of the woman.   He leaned back over the bar while she pushed forward, not touching him but overwhelming him with the force of her aura of authority. 

“Do I look like a  _Mary?_ ” she asked.  Kris shook his head and wondered if it was too late to apologise.  “How about Joseph.  Do I look like him?”

“No ma’am,” Kris whispered, terrified by nothing more than the look on her face.

One hand came up and cupped his wrist before the nails dug in and she twisted; pain shot up his arm.  “What about Jesus?”

“No! Ow!  Not any of them, I’m sorry!”

“Miss Minnie.”  The voice was nearly familiar.  Kris looked up gratefully into the eyes of his rescuer and saw the silver vine mask.  “Please take your hands off my new sub,” he said.  Kris blinked,  _sure_  he’d heard that wrong.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

 

Tao was electrified by the thought of coming back into a club.  It was half terror and half wonder and he trembled with the effort of holding himself back.  Part of him wanted to throw his arms around Kris and thank him for the opportunity to get past everything he’d already dealt with.  The other part wanted to beg Kris not to make him go back to it. 

On the whole, he understood that what he considered normal was absolutely the furthest thing from anyone elses mind.  He didn’t think there was anything  _wrong_  with him, and he hated himself for feeling resentful of Kris when the older trainee used words like ‘fix you.’  He didn’t  _feel_  broken – but then he also knew that the others weren’t like him.  He  _knew_  there was something wrong. 

He was on the verge of bolting when they arrived at the outside of the club, and Kris’s half-hearted attempts to get someone’s attention only made the instinct to flee stronger.   Finally, they just walked in.  A second doorway greeted them at the end of the hall.  Kris pulled that one open too and they stepped inside.  Tao, braced for anything from a cave to a den of blatant sin, was surprised by the interior.  It was dim, except for the almost-spotlights that highlighted each stage.  Heavy music pounded out of invisible speakers.  Everything was clean, and appeared to be well-taken-care-of.   There were even artistic photos and paintings on the wall, clearly the work of professionals. 

“Oh,” he said, involuntarily. 

Kris looked ready to strangle him.  “Oh, what?” he snapped.

“This is a nice club,” Tao explained.  Kris looked around dubiously, but before he could say anything, a master appeared before them.  A mask concealed a full two-thirds of his face, but even with that concealment his irritation was almost palpable in the air around him.  Tao had to repress his first urge to just drop to his knees and beg forgiveness.  The man exuded control and domination like a cologne. 

“How did you find this place?” he demanded.  Tao felt his throat close up around the words, and waited for Kris to answer.  “You’re both clearly too young to be here,” he continued.  “You need to leave.”

Tao nearly turned on his heel and left on the force of the man’s command alone.  It was Kris, who held his ground and refused to budge, that gave Tao the necessary nerve to stay where he was.  And Kris – who had seemed dominating to Tao before he’d seen the two of them standing together – was asking the man for help.  He pulled him a little distance from Tao for privacy, which was just as well; he might not say much, but there was nothing wrong with his hearing, and he didn’t particularly enjoy hearing himself discussed.  In small bursts, he took in their appearance side by side.  Kris, who had always seemed like the Master of the Universe to Tao, suddenly seemed like a scrawny, undersized kid next to the powerfully built Master of the Club.  He put his arms around his chest and flinched when the man turned to him.   It wasn’t until the apparent end of the conversation that he even realised that the man was slightly shorter than Kris.  Tao turned to survey the club while he organised his thoughts.  The man’s shoulders were wider than Kris’s, his muscles more defined, his jaw was more defined.  Kris looked sort of  _soft_  beside him, and it was disorienting, to say the least. 

“Tao!” the Master barked.  Tao went down automatically – in the past, that tone of voice had always preceded a beating.  And not always in the name of discipline.  “Get up,” he said roughly.  “You’re not mine.”  His voice became softer.  “I need to talk to you.  Will you come with me to my office?”

Tao glanced at Kris, who seemed to approve.  He nodded and rose to his feet to follow, and was only barely aware that Kris was prevented from following them as the man lead him to the corner.  Yet another door was concealed by the wall; it wouldn’t have been visible at all if not for the pull that served to open it. 

“By the way,” he said.  “You may call me Sarang.” 

“Yes, Lord Sarang,” Tao said, half-mumbled.  He had a deep sense of  _rightness_  about Sarang.  This was what all of his previous masters should have aspired to be.  Confident, in control, and still kind. 

“You have, from me, absolute permission to say anything you’d like.”

Tao glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t joking.  He considered just parroting ‘anything you’d like’ back at him to see if he might smile, but he didn’t think childish jokes would work on this man the same way they worked on Kris.  “I understand,” he said instead. 

“Your friend, what’s his name?”

“Kris.”

“He’s a good kid,” Sarang said, and Tao felt his head jerk up, surprised.  “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not a monster despite the mask.  See?”  He pulled it off and revealed a handsome face. 

“Why-” Tao cleared his throat to try again.  “Why do you wear it?”

“Privacy.  Mystique.  Just to be a contrary ass, sometimes.  Why do you wear yours?”

Tao’s hands went to his face.  “I don’t.”

“Look me in the eyes and say that again.”

He tried.  The part of his brain that had been conditioned to respond to direct orders screamed at the rest of him to just raise his eyes and look Sarang in the face.  He couldn’t do it.  The rest of his brain, more concerned with the rules that had been drilled into him about  _keeping his eyes on the floor_  was waiting for the whip to come cracking down. 

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve already been through,” Sarang said, and his voice was tight.  Tao risked a quick glance at him when he was sure the man wasn’t looking at him, and saw his eyes narrow and his fists clench.  “When I think of what those… people… did to you in the name of my art, it makes me want to kill them.  And I think that the last thing you need is another old man breathing down your neck.  So I want your true and honest opinion about something.

“Do you want my help?”

Tao was silent and still for a long moment, as he considered everything he could think about.  “Yes,” he said finally.  He  _didn’t_  want to be this way forever. 

“Good.  For you, wanting’s half the battle.  My next question is in direct relation to the previous statement.  I do not feel comfortable with you.  I understand that you’ve been through – probably more than I have.  But you’re what, twelve?  Thirteen?”

“Almost sixteen!” Tao snapped, outraged, and then slapped both hands over his mouth, shocked at his own daring. 

Sarang smiled, slowly.  “You’re ten years younger than me, and you’re just the same size as my little brother,” he said.  “I can’t touch you.  Not legally, and truthfully, little kids just don’t do anything for me.  I’m that kind of selfish.”

Tao felt a vat of hopelessness open up beneath him.  “Then you can’t help me.”

“ _I_  can’t help  _you,_ ” he said.  “But, here’s the thing:  I  _can_  help  _Kris_  help you.”

Tao blinked as he absorbed the words.   Kris’s voice echoed in his memory.   _I don’t know how to be the kind of person who can help you!_  he’d said.  And he’d mentioned they would find a specific person:   _Someone who can help me help you._   His exact words.  “That’s what he said,” Tao murmured.  “What he was looking for.  Not someone to fix me, but to help him help me.”

Sarang beamed as he replaced his mask.  “First of all, you’re not broken.  We fix appliances, not people.  What you need is  _reconditioning_  and affirmation of your own self-worth.  Secondly, I don’t know how much Kris knows about your background, or what he’s gotten when he gambled on SiyahSarang’s as the club to come to for help.  I’m a dominant.  I’m willing to train him – and by extension, you – but I start all of my new doms out as subs so that they can understand.  Do  _you_  think he’s going to be willing to subject himself to this?”

“Uh,” Tao said, and his brain fizzled, popped, and died at the image of Kris submitting to  _anyone._   Then he refactored Sarang into the picture, and almost smiled.  “I don’t know.  He’s … naïve.”

“Says the kid,” Sarang said.  “Well, let’s run it by him and see what he thinks.”

They stepped out of the back office and reentered the main body of the club.  Tao looked around immediately for Kris, and saw him being held down across the bar by a woman in leather.  She had a vicious expression on her face, and Kris – for the first time since Tao had known him – looked terrified. 

“He,” he started to ask Sarang to help and found the man already striding forward, anger pouring off every line of his body.  Tao hurried to catch up.

“Miss Minnie,” Sarang said, his voice tight.  “Please take your hands off my new sub.”

The woman eased up off of Kris like an eel and looked Sarang in the eye, a disdainful expression on her face.  “Your training needs work if they speak like that.”

“What part of  _new_  failed to make it through your pea-sized brain?”

A second woman jogged up behind them.  “Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here?  Sarang?  Minnie, what happened now?”

“Insults,” Minnie said.  “Blatant disrespect for authority.  If Sarang can’t be bothered to correct his subs, then someone has to do it for him.”

“Kris is here as a guest for the moment,” Sarang said.  “His submission is in question.”

Kris peeled himself off the bar and rubbed his throat where Minnie’s arm had been.  “Excuse me?” The words dropped like rocks into the chilly silence that fell between them. 

“Come on, Miss Minnie, stop bothering Sarang.”

“Yes, Lady Siyah,” she said.  Siyah and Minnie retreated to the other side of the club, vanishing into the smoky gloom.  Not, Tao noticed, before Miss Minnie shot a venomous look at both Kris and Sarang over her shoulder, however.

Kris was stepping into Sarang’s personal space.  “Can you explain that to me, please?”

“Should I use small words?”

“I brought  _Tao_  –”

“Who is a minor beneath the age of consent, much less anything else.  I did say I needed to talk to you.  Your turn to come with me to my office.  Tao,” he added, and Tao tilted his head to show he was listening.  “Stay here at the bar and  _stay out of trouble._ ”

“Yes, Master Sarang,” he said, and seated himself at the bar.  The bartender, a man masquerading as a woman, smiled brightly.

“Hola,” he said.  “I’m Angelique.  Pre-op.”

“Tao,” he said.  “Apparently in need of reconditioning.”

Angelique laughed, at least.

*

Kris silently followed Sarang to the office he’d just seen Tao coming out of.  When the door swung shut behind him, he folded his arms over his chest and glared.

Sarang glared right back.  “Do I even want to know how you managed to pick a fight with a volatile Mistress in the fifteen minutes Tao and I were talking?”

“Mostly I talked to Angelique,” Kris said.  “But then she startled me and I may have said something unflattering, and she assaulted me.”

“May.”

“I didn’t realise she’d take offense to it,” Kris muttered, feeling like an insolent child under Sarang’s unblinking stare.  “It’s just an expression.”

“What did you say?”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

“Fucking hell.  She’s at war with her religion.  You couldn’t have said any worse thing to piss her off.  I hate her anyway, but she’s not my problem.  You are.  I just spoke with Tao, and he accepts that I can do nothing for him at the moment due to his age.”

Kris bristled.  “You want to just leave him like that for the next five years because he’s  _underage?_ ”

“No, of course not.  He understands that my personal code of ethics will not allow me to get near him.  Not to mention that if anyone were to go to the police department tonight and claim I touched him, I could go to jail as a sex offender for violating a minor, and I would very much like to keep my record as shiny white and clean as it is now.”  Sarang held up a hand when Kris would have gone further.  “You may bring him here for instruction, of course, as long as you are aware that it will not be  _involved._ ”

“I don’t understand,” Kris said, feeling like a little kid and hating it.  “He won’t respond to anything else.  I’ve tried telling him over and over that he’s his own person, he doesn’t need a dom, but it’s not sinking in.  I thought – maybe reverse conditioning, in a positive atmosphere…  That’s the only reason I’m here,” he added, shooting Sarang a dark look.

“I understand that as well, and you may be right.  It may also be that he needs to see other subs who are capable of thinking and acting for themselves, and who are  _not_  being subjugated under abusive masters.  What I think the best course of action to take now is training  _you_  to be a dominant, who can then work within that framework to train him back out of being afraid.”

Kris’s mouth dropped open.  Of all the things he’d been expecting, training himself wasn’t among them.  Now that it was in his mind, though, he could see it – of course, that would be the perfect solution.  He could train Tao both at the club and within the trainee program, and he would be capable of doing it without inflicting further harm, and – he paused there.

“What’s the catch?  Do you charge outrageously for it?”

“On the contrary, there are no fees here at SiyahSarang.  Both the Lady Siyah and myself are independently wealthy, and support the club out of our own pockets.  We do rely somewhat on patron gifts and donations, since we cannot anticipate all needs, but.”

Sarang’s expression was perfectly serene.  Kris still wasn’t convinced. 

“This seems like the perfect setup.  So why don’t I believe you right now?”

“I don’t train doms until they’ve been trained as subs first.”

“No way.”

The refusal slipped out before his brain had even caught up with what Sarang had said.

“Excuse me?”

“I am not… no.  Do I look like a submissive to you?  I’m not doing that.  There is no way in  _hell._   Have you  _seen_  what it’s done to Tao?  I’m not going through that.  That’s insane.   _You’re_  insane.  I’m not doing it.”

Sarang leaned against a desk, nearly tipping a pile of paperwork off the other side of it.  “First of all,” he said, straightening the papers, “Submissives come from all walks of life, in all shapes and packages.  Do I truly look like your idea of a dominant?”

Kris looked him over, and tried to decide.  “I never thought about what one would look like,” he said finally.  Leather clothes, maybe, like the Minnie woman was wearing, and maybe a whip in each hand.  In a loose cotton shirt and soft leather pants, Sarang looked like he’d stepped off the set of  _Pirates of the Caribbean._  All he needed was a scimitar clenched between his teeth and a pistol in his hand and he might be mistaken for a buccaneer, not a dominant. 

Sarang gave a wry smile.  “Secondly, what was done to Tao was the result of many years of abuse.  Battered wives and abused children tend to show the same tendency to flinch, the same fear of authority.  There is an  _immense_  difference between domination and abuse, and I’ll thank you not to confuse them again.  Thirdly, it’s not insane.  It’s a perfectly legitimate subculture expressing a normal and healthy facet of human sexuality.”

His argument was weakening.  He couldn’t honestly say he had no discrimination against the BDSM culture if he was so completely unwilling to get personally involved.  “It’s… not really…”  Kris faltered, and couldn’t think of what to say that would counter it without insulting everyone again.  “You’ve got me,” he said.  Sarang’s smile was victorious, but fleeting.

“Are you expected back tonight?”

Kris blinked, startled.  “Uh, no,” he said, and then wondered if that had been the correct response when Sarang’s smile widened beneath the mask. 

“Good.  Stay for a – let’s call it a practical demonstration, shall we?”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

To Kris’s relief, Sarang took them both into a private room.  With no idea what to expect, given the implements and activities going on out on the main floor, Kris was almost relieved when he realised the room was empty. 

Nearly empty, he amended to himself, taking in the large bed – with restraints visible against the white, silky looking bedclothes – and odd structures that seemed to be bolted to the walls and floor.  “What is that?” he asked.

“A-Frame.” Sarang lead him to it, and pushed him against it, holding his hands above his head.  “The sub is restrained to it in a variety of positions.  This,” he continued, and again leading Kris to be the subject, he pushed the teen down onto the bench.  “Is a spanking bench.  Your arms and legs are restrained to the legs, there.”

He felt horribly exposed with his ass in the air.  It would be all too easy to imagine someone standing behind him with a paddle, hitting him like a recalcitrant child.  Kris pushed to be let up; Sarang held him a moment longer before releasing him. 

 _Yeah, I get it,_  he thought.   _You’re in charge, point made._   Scowling, he turned to look at Tao, who was examining a system of ropes and pulleys with interest. 

“Suspension, partial or total,” Sarang explained.  “I also like to use it just to tie people up.”

Kris flushed.  “And how does that work?”  He regretted it the moment the words were out of his mouth, and even more-so when Sarang turned to Tao.

“Find me the cuffs, please, Tao,” he said.  Kris watched in silence as Tao opened the bureau and withdrew a pair of leather bands.  Sarang took them with a word of grateful praise to Tao, and fitted them around Kris’s wrists.  Not so tight that they cut off circulation to his hands, but not loose enough for him to pull his arm free of them.  They looked strange there on his arms, but for some reason the feel of the cool leather against his skin made his heart beat faster. 

“This is very nice,” Sarang said, stroking the skin just under the edge of the cuff.  It tingled and Kris had to fight his urge to pull away.  “Now, I was serious when I proposed the demonstration.  I can let you go now, if you’re too scared to give it a try.”

Kris bristled.  “I’m not scared of anything,” he boasted, but he looked at the cuffs around his wrists again and wanted to swallow the words.  A moment later, he realised that the dare had been calculated against him when Sarang’s smile turned devious. 

“Remove your shirt, then.”

Kris lifted his chin and stared Sarang in the eye while he peeled his shirt off over his head.  He let it fall, and didn’t notice Tao picking it up and folding it neatly out of the way.  Shirtless, the room was cool, but Kris fought against the shiver that wound its way up his spine – he didn’t want to be taken for a coward. 

Sarang stared straight back at him, still with that same, inscrutable smile on his face.  Without taking his eyes off Kris’s, he reached up and pulled down a dangling rope.  Out of the corner of his eye, Kris saw that it had the same pull-latch as a dog’s leash.  In the other hand, Sarang took Kris’s wrist and attached the cuff to the latch.  Kris pulled on it and found that it gave as the rope moved between the pulleys.  Still in silence, Sarang attached the other cuff to another latch.  Kris folded his arms across his chest just to prove that he could.

“This doesn’t seem a very effective way to tie someone up,” he said.

“No?” Sarang replied.  With two strides, he crossed the room to the wall where the ropes and pulleys were attached, and yanked on them.  Kris found his arms suspended above his head against his will.  Sarang pulled a little harder so that Kris had to stand on his tiptoes or be stretched uncomfortably.  He twisted something on the ropes and let go, but as hard as Kris pulled, he couldn’t free himself.  “Practical demonstration,” Sarang said.  “Here’s a mini-contract, verbal.  Do not fight me on this,  _yet._   You will act as my submissive in this scene, and afterwards you will give me your choice.  Do you agree?”

Kris kept silent for a moment, thinking.  He was only agreeing to the one scene, and if tying him up like this – uncomfortable though it was – was it, he could handle it.  He could even handle it if Sarang decided he wanted to get hands-on with one of those wicked-looking paddles or floggers Kris could see hanging in the bureau.  It was a pretty easy deal.  “I agree.  One – scene – for trial purposes.”  He stumbled over the unfamiliar word, but then lifted his chin again.  Tao was, after all, still watching. 

Sarang’s cat-who-ate-the-canary smile grew wider.  “Very good,” he said, and stepped back up to Kris.  With quick, deft movements, he unfastened Kris’s jeans and pulled them down, along with his boxers.  Kris swallowed down his initial reflex to kick out, reminding himself that Sarang was as professional as you could get, and that Tao was just out of sight behind him.  Once he was naked except for his socks, Sarang moved past him and went to the bureau and withdrew something else in a box.  “One of our policies here at SiyahSarang’s is cleanliness.  Repeat customers must present valid proof that they are free of communicable diseases up to and including HIV and Aids, and on our side of the fence, everything is sterilized completely before and after each use.”  As he spoke, he tore open a condom packet and slid it over the thing that had come out of the box.  He twisted in the ropes but Sarang had his back turned and Kris couldn’t see what it was. 

“I’m half-tempted to blindfold you, but I don’t  _actually_  want to frighten you off, not when you came here requesting my aid.   We’ll save blindfolds and other sensory deprivation lessons for another time.”  Sarang turned, but held the thing in such a way that Kris still couldn’t see what it was.  “Now may also be a good time to ask you about your sexual orientation, though I’d like to assure you that perfectly heterosexual men also come here to become my subs.  If you feel that this is out of bounds, tell me when the scene is over and I will enlist Siyah as your dominant until the training is complete.  For now, however,” he smirked.  “Please try to be the bigger man about this.”

“My orientat-  _what?_   Why?  Is it important?”

Sarang pulled on a latex glove.  “Are you allergic to latex?” he asked.  Kris shook his head.  “Then the orientation question will soon become apparent.”  He dabbed some sort of goo onto his hands from an open jar resting on a table, and then, without ceremony, pushed one finger into Kris’s ass.  Kris yelped.

“What are you doing?”

“Generally it’s called preparation,” Sarang said briskly.  He moved.  Kris tried to feel his way past the humiliation of having Sarang’s hand  _inside_  his body, and then realised it felt… good.  He’d experimented, of course, and he’d always told himself that it would be okay, but to have it done so baldly…

“I consider myself ‘equal opportunity,’” Kris said.  “I’ve never really had a chance to te-ah!-test it.” Sarang’s finger had found something inside him that felt  _so good._   He’d heard rumours, of course, but never imagined how it would  _feel._  

“Good, so you’re not going to have an existential crisis because of this.”  He withdrew slightly and added another finger.  Kris could feel himself stretching around the intrusion, and it burned slightly, but wasn’t altogether painful.  The lubrication was doing its job.  “Proper use of lube is, of course, important, because otherwise tearing and infection can occur.”  Sarang sounded like a commercial, with the dry, clinical tones of a doctor as he spoke.  Kris’s face felt hot that the man could so coolly stand there discussing something so intimate and sound like he was talking about the weather. 

Sarang removed his hand once more, and then shifted his weight slightly.  Kris sensed it more than saw, because he could only turn his head so far with the way his arms were held up above him, and then something larger and firmer and less yielding than fingers pushed into him.  It too was well lubed, and slid in easily.  Kris felt full, awkward and slightly uncomfortable, but couldn’t see the point.  Sarang fastened straps around his thighs and waist that moved the thing around his body until he could feel it pressing against his inner walls.  He withdrew something from his pocket and seemed to literally  _tie_  it around the base of Kris’s half-hard erection, stroking him quickly to bring him to full alert. Kris panted, hating himself for reacting.

“Now, are you ready?”

“For wha- _aaah!_ ”

Sarang clicked something and the toy inside him sprang to life, vibrating for all it was worth.  Kris writhed in the bonds, trying to alternately get away and get closer to the feeling. 

“Oh my – oh, oh,” it was all he could say.  Sarang moved around to face him, still smiling.

“I think fifteen minutes ought to do it.  Come along, Tao.” 

Tao came into Kris’s field of vision, face red and eyes down.  To Kris’s utmost surprise, they simply… left.  The door swung shut behind them, and Kris was left alone in the room, silent except for his heavy breathing, occasional outbursts, and the buzzing of the toy that wouldn’t stop.

*

Tao was in shock.  They’d just  _left_  him.  He couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through Kris’s mind at the total bereavement of separation in such an intimate, important moment of his life.  Not to mention, what was Sarang thinking?  Any number of accidents could happen, and they wouldn’t know about it until it was too late. 

Sarang lead him back to the bar where Angelique was so bored, she was spinning bottles on their edges. 

“You ought to get a TV in here or something,” she told Sarang when he appeared at the bar with Tao in tow.  “Even just a little one for under the bar, just for me.  Anything to break up this monotony.  All the doms are busy but you.  And didn’t you take Kristy off to that room to play with him?  Why are you back here?”

Sarang smiled on.  “He’s in there.  He’s learning a lesson in submission at the moment.”

Angelique’s eyes flickered to Tao.  “I see,” she said.  “Want a drink?  Oh, and we’re getting short on peach schnapps.  That damn Miss Minnie is draining us dry on them.”

Tao sat at the bar beside Sarang and listened to them talk shop.  He kept one eye on the clock he could see nestled behind the bar as the minutes dragged on as slowly as possible.  Each one seemed to take an hour.  Finally, exactly fifteen minutes from when he’d first brought Tao to the bar, Sarang stood up.

“Time to go check on him,” he announced.  Tao sprang off the stool without being asked and hurried after him. 

The door swung open to reveal a side of Kris that Tao had never even imagined before.  He was dripping with sweat, his face was red, and his expression twisted up, with pain or pleasure, Tao couldn’t tell immediately. 

He looked up when he heard them enter and words spilled helplessly from his lips.

“Please,” he said.  “Please, please, please, please stop it, please make it, please…”

Tao looked sharply at Sarang, who folded his arms against his chest and stood silently, surveying Kris who swung helplessly from his ropes, still begging quietly. 

“Do you understand now?  I am the master; I have control.  Everything you do or don’t do is under the command of my whims.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Kris said, nodding frantically.  “ _Please._ ”

Sarang moved closer.  Kris’s hips twitched, and Tao saw that his skin was almost purple, the head of his cock leaking fluid.  There was no sign of orgasm, and Tao realised that the cock ring Sarang had tied around him was preventing it. 

 _No wonder he’s out of his mind,_  Tao thought, feeling just as helpless.  He’d never been in the same predicament – his doms had never cared to let him come, or to deny him the pleasure.  It had always been about  _their_  pleasure.  There was a cruel edge to Sarang’s smile now. 

Sarang stepped forward and untied the cock ring, drawing an almost-scream from Kris.  To Tao, used to seeing Kris striding around in command, it was nerve-wracking to see him so – so  _submissive._   Another click and the buzzing noise stopped.  Kris whimpered, twisting against the ropes that still held him immobile.  With quick, deft movements, Sarang stroked him firmly until he came, arching, with a bone-wrenching jerk of his body and a nearly inhuman noise.  Sarang let him spill on the carpet, stepping back out of the way so that he didn’t get any on him, and watched Kris swing gently from the suspension. 

“Tao,” Sarang said.  “Can you release the ropes?” 

Tao jerked to hear his name, and nodded quickly, crossing the room to find the mechanism.  They released and Kris collapsed bonelessly into Sarang’s arms.  He was shivering, but Sarang lowered him gently to the ground, stroking his hair. 

“You did so well,” he said.  “Very good, very nice.  Are you thirsty?  Do you want some water?”

“N-no,” Kris said, and then noticed the mess on the floor.  “I’m sorry!” he said suddenly, and Tao understood, with blinding clarity, that Sarang had put Kris into subspace and was now drawing him down out of it. 

“Shh, it’s okay.  That’s why we have a cleaning staff,” Sarang said.  “Do you want me to get you something?  Candy?”  All traces of the commanding, distant dom were gone as Sarang talked Kris down from the endorphin high.  Tao noticed Kris shivering, even as Sarang held him tighter, and with instinctive understanding knew that Kris wasn’t shivering from shock, it was mostly likely cold.  He wrenched the comforter off the bed – it was thick and fluffy despite being covered with a silk or satin slip – and draped it over Kris’s shoulders.  Sarang looked up at him, surprised, and Tao realised he’d acted without orders.  Terror washed over him, and he waited for the verbal-dressing down that always preceded his punishments.

“Good job, Tao,” Sarang said.  “I didn’t even think – How did you know?”

Still disbelieving, Tao knelt beside them.  Kris drew the blanket over himself, both to cover his modesty and for the heat and comfort.  He was beginning to look more like himself, but Sarang was still holding him close, cradling him like a child.  Envy washed over Tao – he’d have given anything, when he was in the same state, to have been held like that, and no one ever had.  It was then that he realised what a good thing Kris had done, bringing him here.  He could  _see_  that not all doms were bad, that not all subs were beaten.  He could  _see_  it.  Now all he had to do was take it to heart.  “His temperature skyrocketed in the scene,” Tao said, voice soft.  How did he explain what he’d instinctively known, drawing on memories of the times he’d  _been_  that sub, tied up and left to rot while the dom partied or drank… He shrugged.  “Once he was coming down, of course he’s going to get cold.”

Sarang disengaged and arm from the still quivering Kris, and clasped Tao’s hand, squeezing it.  “You did good,” he said again.  “Thank you.” 

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Kris said from under the blanket.  “I’m still alive, you know.” 

Sarang stood without answering him, picking him up still wrapped in the blanket.  Tao snickered to himself to see Kris manhandled like a child, and something inside him eased.  He felt breathless and somewhat dizzy, but as he watched Sarang putting Kris on the bed, he couldn’t even define the feeling to himself.  “I’m going to have some water and snacks brought,” Sarang said, his voice soft now that the scene was over.  “You two can stay here overnight if you have to.”  He closed the door gently behind him.  Tao hung back, watching Kris on the bed, and wanted to ask him how he was feeling, if he was alright now, what was going through his mind.  Long habit kept him silent.

The door opening again startled them both, but it was a bright eyed young man with brown hair and an infectious smile.  “I’m Ken,” he said.  “Sarang said to bring you guys some refreshments.”  He was holding a tray that had several bottles of water, Gatorade, and some snacks, just as Sarang had promised.  He set the tray down on the bedside table and silently withdrew, making a point of showing that the door could be locked from the inside before locking it and pulling it closed behind him. 

Tao watched Kris watch the tray as though he were expecting it to bite him, and saw Kris begin to shiver, despite the blanket he was still wrapped in.  He knew, deep in his heart, that what Kris needed wasn’t the candy or sandwiches or Gatorade that Sarang had provided, but the touch of another human being to remind him that he wasn’t alone.  He debated with himself for a long moment and then crawled into the bed with Kris.

“What are you doing?” Kris asked, but it didn’t sound offended or angry; just confused.

“Trust me,” Tao murmured, and curled himself around Kris, practically straddling him.  Kris’s knees came up, supporting him from behind, until they were wrapped up in each other as well as the blankets.  He could feel Kris’s heart-rate returning to normal even as they sat there. 

“Are you thirsty?”  Tao didn’t wait for a response; he simply reached for the Gatorade bottle and opened it before handing it to Kris.  He noticed how the older boy’s hands shook, how he needed both of them to hold the bottle up.  The shaking eased as he took the liquid into his body, and Tao felt, for the first time, that someone  _needed_  him, and not just for a whipping post or a sex-toy, but him,  _Zitao,_  the person.  He carded his fingers through Kris’s hair and took the bottle – nearly empty – before it fell as Kris slipped into sleep, still curled around Tao and clinging to him for dear life.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Kris woke up in an unfamiliar room, with another body in bed with him.  He bit back his startled exclamation when he recognised the shock of dark hair on the pillow beside him, and then remembered where he’d fallen asleep. 

Looking around, everything seemed to take on a sinister cast.  The ropes where he’d been held against his will and  _tortured_  unendurably swung empty, casting a pseudo-innocent shadow on the wall from the overhead lights.  Kris shuddered.  He wished he could teleport, so he could just take Tao and leave without having to walk back through the empty club.  The tray with the snacks Sarang had sent was still on the table, and Kris reached over Tao for another bottle of Gatorade, and then watched as his hands seemed to belong to someone else as they shook uncontrollably. 

Tao stirred, then froze.  Kris looked down at him and watched his eyes come open slowly, just slits at first as he took in his surroundings, and then opening wider as he recognised Kris.  He smiled sleepily, and Kris’s heart stumbled in his chest for the span of a single beat, and then he realised that it was extremely sketchy – they’d just woken up in a  _sex club_  in the same bed, and now Kris was looming over him first thing in the morning.

He was just reaching for Gatorade, but the position was suspicious nonetheless.  Kris snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned and waved the Gatorade bottle as evidence that he hadn’t been about to try anything untoward.  Tao simply smiled shyly and didn’t say anything. 

“Good morning,” Kris said, and cleared his throat; his voice was scratchy and sexy, and he didn’t want any reminders of  _sex_  ever again.  “Morning,” he tried again, with a clear voice. 

“Good morning,” Tao said, hesitantly.  Kris nodded in approval, and watched Tao’s face light up like the morning sun.  It was like dealing with a little kid; he was so easily satisfied.

The word  _satisfied_  brought unwanted connotations as well, and Kris rolled out of the bed like it was on fire.  “Okay,” he said.  “We’re done here, right?  Let’s go.” 

Tao made a wordless noise and Kris looked down only to realise he was still naked. 

“Shit.  Where are my clothes?”

What if that pervert had taken them in the night?  What had he done with them?  He remembered taking them off… dropping them.  They weren’t on the floor.  Was he going to have to steal the bedcovers just to walk home? 

He looked around, his blood pressure skyrocketing.  “ _Where are my clothes?_ ” he asked again, and panic warred with rage.  Tao cleared his throat.

“Um,” he said.  Kris whirled, and watched as Tao flinched away from him. 

Tao  _never_  flinched away from  _him_  like that.  Kris took a deep breath and forcibly uncurled his fists, trying not to think about how much that simple little reflexive action on Tao’s part had  _hurt._  

“Tao,” he said, carefully controlling his voice.  “I’m sorry.  Do you know where they are?”

Tao nodded, and pointed.  Kris turned around again and saw his shirt and jeans folded neatly on the spanking bench in the far corner of the room.  He crossed the room at a near-sprint and pulled his clothes on so fast his shirt was inside out.  He almost didn’t stop to turn it around, but he’d be going outside soon and he didn’t want anyone to know…

Tao slipped carefully out of the bed and straightened the covers.  Kris wanted to tell him not to do that -  _man_  - any favours, but the deed was done before he got a handle on himself. 

“Ready?”

Tao nodded.

“Let’s go.”

He unlocked the door as slowly as he could, wincing when the click of the door unlatching sounded like a gunshot in the silence of the room.  He eased the door open and carefully looked out.  The stages were empty; there were lights on, but they cast a dim glow that barely illuminated the club.  It was oddly silent without the pounding music, and cracks and thumps and screams of the patrons. 

“Good morning!”

Kris jumped about six feet into the air at the chirpy voice.  Behind him, Tao made a noise that may have been a laugh, but when Kris glanced at him, he was just as blank-faced as ever. 

“Remember me?  I’m Ken.  Did you sleep alright?”

It was the young man from the night before.  He was wearing pyjamas and looked incongruously out of place in the silent club. 

“Yes, fine, thank you.  We’re just leaving.”

He grinned.  “I can see that.  Well, come back any time.  Lord Sarang would love to have you.”

Kris paled, then flushed at the double entendre in the words.  He hoped it was unintended, but it just increased his need to get out of the club before anyone else showed up.  To his dismay, Ken followed them through the club to the front door, keeping up a steady stream of chatter directed at Tao, who was… actually looking at him.  Kris felt left out and grumpy, and hated himself for it.  He couldn’t even get Tao to look  _him_  in the face when he talked, and something about this Ken kid apparently put Tao at such ease that he didn’t even think about acting like a sub. 

 _Is that what he wants?  Someone who’s all sunshine and rainbows all the time?_   He realised where the train of thought was taking him, and mercilessly derailed it before it had a chance to go any further down the tracks.

*

Tao followed Kris back into the dorm room with a light heart and a smile he just couldn’t keep off his face.  Except when Kris looked at him.  The expression on his face was thunderous, and Tao kept expecting lightning to crackle around his hair, he was so visibly upset. 

“Thank god,” Kris murmured, and threw himself onto the couch.  “We made it.”  He looked up at Tao, and was apparently getting used to reading his expressions, because his face became guarded.  “You don’t agree,” he said flatly.

Tao shrugged.   _Agree with what?_  he wondered. 

“That guy,” Kris said, and shuddered.  “That… that is never happening again.”  His hands curled into fists on his lap.  He didn’t seem to notice, but Tao took an unobtrusive step back, just in case.   “That was  _practically rape,_ ” he said, working himself up now that they were safely back in the dorm.  “And we are never -  _ever_  - going back there again,” he added, nearly panting with the force of his emotion. 

Tao didn’t know what his face looked like, but Kris looked him in the eyes and suddenly scowled. 

“You don’t agree,” he said.  Tao shrugged again, sitting on the other end of the couch because it was better than looming above Kris.  The older trainee gave a silent count to ten – Tao could almost hear him counting – and then took a deep breath.  “Tell me why,” he said.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tao said, and then wished he could stuff the words back into his mouth when Kris’s expression darkened.  Then, swallowing around the lump in his throat, he tried again.  “I mean… it’s okay if you’re scared.”

The look Kris gave him was downright venomous, but Tao held his ground.  He’d seen Kris at his worst last night, and knew Kris needed him.  It was enough for him to press onward. 

“I’m not  _scared,_ ” Kris said. 

“He,” Tao said, and lost his voice for a moment.  Kris looked ready to do murder.

“Keep talking,” he ground out.

“He explained exactly what he was going to do,” Tao said, trying to put more distance between them.  Unfortunately he ran into the arm of the couch and couldn’t go anywhere else.  If he stood up, it would be clear that he was running away.  “You agreed.  And, and was it really so bad?”  His voice broke to a whisper on the last words. 

Kris looked dumbstruck.  Tao took it for an encouraging sign and pressed on.

“It felt good, right?  You’re just not used to having no control.”  He took a deep breath.  “That’s how I feel all the time,” he added.  “But if you’re scared, it’s okay.  I can’t make you go back if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not scared!” Kris shouted.  “Fine!  We’ll go back tonight.  This isn’t about me, anyway.  If this is what I’ve got to do this is what I’ll do.”  But his face was bloodless, his knuckles were white, and he swallowed compulsively.  He could tell himself he wasn’t scared until he was blue in the face, but all the signs pointed to abject terror.  Tao inched nearer to him and, taking a huge leap of faith, leaned his head on Kris’s shoulder.  He felt the tension drain out of the older teen and a burst of pride went through him when Kris’s arm came around his waist, holding him close. 

“You manipulative little brat,” Kris murmured, but he didn’t let go.

*

This time, Sarang met them at the door.  “You came back,” he said, looking surprised.  Kris glowered at him.

“I came to you for help,” Kris said loftily.  “You said you’d do it.”

“Of course I will.  Welcome back, Tao,” he said, looking over Kris’s shoulder.  He invited them in and lead them straight back to the room they’d woken in just that morning.  The sheets had been changed – they were green now instead of white – and the stain of his embarrassment was gone from the carpet. 

“Have a seat on the bed, Tao,” Sarang said, and then stepped back to look at Kris and the room.  “I wasn’t expecting you back for a while,” he said. 

“Is this a bad time?”

“Of course not.  Ken’s doing his homework in the other room, he’ll be fine.”

Kris was startled, wondering what Ken’s homework had to do with them showing up.  Sarang must have seen something in his face, because he smiled warmly.

“He’s in college, and he’s my only full-time sub right now,” he explained.  “I meant that he’s busy and won’t need me for a few hours.” He clasped his hands together and circled Kris like a hawk.  Kris stiffened his spine and deliberately didn’t turn, even though allowing the man behind him felt dangerous.  “So,” Sarang said.  “Last night you learned  _submission._   What shall tonight’s lesson be, I wonder?”

Kris scowled.  “If you’d like to make sense, any time would be great, please.”

Sarang hooked his fingers into Kris’s hair and yanked his head back.  “Submission as in the dom has the power – until the sub takes it from him.  Maybe that’s what we’ll cover tonight.  Have you ever heard of ‘safewords’?”

Tao’s head came up, interested.  Kris struggled to remember if he’d heard of it before, but it felt like his brain was blanking out.  Sarang’s presence was pushing everything out of his mind.  He felt like a few more minutes of that hard stare and he wouldn’t even remember his own name. 

“In a scene, words like ‘no’ and ‘stop’ don’t follow the same rules as they do in regular life.  A safeword is an unrelated word that is easy to remember that gives the sub the power to slow the scene down if it’s too intense, or if you reach your absolute limit, stop it entirely.  The dom is bound by these words in an honour system – that the sub will not use them unless necessary, and the dom will abide by them in play.  A practical application is a whipping.  If you as the sub need a few moments to rest, you say the slowdown word, and I will ease up.  If you can’t take any more, you say the stop word and everything ceases immediately.   _Everything.  Immediately._   Do you understand?”

Kris nodded, and wished he’d known about them the night before.  Then he realised that even if he’d known them, he might not have used them.  It wasn’t beyond his capabilities.  It was just embarrassing.  He’d made a complete fool of himself in front of both Sarang  _and_  Tao.   “What kind of words are they?”

“Anything that won’t be mistaken in the heat of play.  Ken uses the word ‘sunshine’ to stop me if it’s too intense.  Other words I’ve heard include ‘cantaloupe’ and ‘zebra.’  It can be anything, but it has to be something easy for you to remember and say.  If the scene is too intense and you’re half out of your mind with pain and pleasure, you don’t want to be trying to remember something like ‘supercalifragilisticexpialadocious,’ you see?”

Kris shivered at the idea of being half out of his mind with anything.  Was it actually possible?  And then he remembered the last scene, their supposed trial demonstration, in which he’d been so far gone all that his whole being was focused on release.  He’d  _needed_  to come in a way he’d never felt before, and it had driven all thoughts of discomfort and embarrassment right out of his head. 

Sarang was continuing.  “The two most common words are ‘yellow’ to slow down and ‘red’ to stop.  Those are perfectly admissible, and should you forget to have a discussion with your dom about what safeword to use, all doms are aware of them and will abide by them.  Still with me?”

“Yes, okay.”  Now memory was starting to come back about how he’d felt tied up and unable to orgasm, and embarrassment was flooding him all over again.  He shivered, and looked around, wondering what the next lesson would be. 

“BDSM is primarily about power exchange – you as the sub are placing your entire wellbeing in my care.  But it is my responsibility to ensure that you’re not permanently damaged.  That’s what we’ll cover tonight.  Strip,” he commanded easily.  Face flushed, Kris peeled off his clothes and stood, embarrassed beyond words, in the buff.  “BDSM isn’t just about pain, either,” Sarang said, circling him again.  “Put your hands down, you haven’t got anything we haven’t seen before,” he commanded when Kris tried to cover himself.  “Pleasure plays a part.  Humiliation.  Desire.  And power.  If I wanted to, I could order you out onto the floor right now, just as you are.   _Put your hands down,_ ” he snapped.  “I don’t like repeating myself.  If that’s my pleasure, to parade you out on the floor, that’s what I’ll do, and you’ll do it whether you like it or not.”

Bizarrely, Kris found himself ready to cry.  He kept his eyes very wide and tried not to blink and spill the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes, and focused on keeping his hands down at his side. 

“Tao, find me those cuffs again,” Sarang said.  “Four of them this time.”  Tao sprang off the bed and went back to the bureau where Sarang kept everything except the largest pieces, and returned with four of the leather cuffs.  He held them like an assistant while Sarang attached them to Kris’s wrists and ankles, and Kris stared straight ahead and tried not to look either of them in the face. 

 Sarang withdrew a blindfold from his pocket and tied it gently around Kris’s head, cutting off light and vision.  It was terrifying for a moment, before he realised that this way he didn’t have to see what was coming for him.  

He felt the loss of heat as Sarang stepped away from him, and heard something heavy being dragged along the floor.  Sarang said, from somewhere across the room, “Tao, make yourself comfortable, please.”  Then footsteps and Sarang’s hands took his and lead him a few steps forward.  His legs were manhandled apart and something clicked, leaving him with his legs tied open in an upright spread-eagle position that made him feel horribly exposed.  Sarang’s hand was a gentle pressure on the back of his neck, pushing him forward and he was bent nearly in half over what was probably the spanking bench.  The thing was tilted so that his head was lower than his hips, and his arms stretched out so that the cuffs could be attached to the other legs. 

The first thing he realised was that he  _could not move._   He couldn’t see.  He couldn’t hear only because his heart was pounding in his ears. 

“I don’t like this,” he said, and pulled on his wrists, trying to free himself.  Sarang and Tao were silent and for a long moment he wondered if they’d left him here like this again. 

“Relax,” Sarang said finally.  “And remember the words.”

Kris had time to think,  _What words?_  and then something solid struck him on the ass.  It wasn’t a very hard blow, and it barely stung, but it was the feeling of humiliation, that he was being spanked like a misbehaving child that got him the hardest.  It fell twice more, and then Sarang’s gloved hands were stroking over the red skin.  To his deepest shame, Kris felt himself getting hard under the light touches. 

“What are you doing?” His voice came out an octave or two higher than normal, and he hated himself for it.

“This isn’t about beating you black and blue,” Sarang said gently.  “It’s about sensations.  Pain.  Pleasure.  Have you not heard a word I said earlier?” The hands went away and the paddle fell again.  This time, the pain felt good. 

It was completely bizarre, and for a moment Kris wondered if they’d slipped him some kind of drug.  It didn’t make any sense, though, he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since coming back to the club.   

“Tao will tell you,” Sarang continued, and Kris felt like he wanted to sink into the floor and die.   _He’d forgotten about Tao._   “The spice of the paddle makes the pleasure sweeter.  The pleasure of the touch makes the paddle easier to bear.” 

And somehow, he was right.  The pleasure mounted, alongside the pain, until he was sure Sarang was using his full strength to swing his arm but all Kris could think about was the end, when he could come. 

And then it stopped.  Cold.  Sarang’s hands came down on him again, gently, and he moved away to get something else out of the cabinet.  Kris felt like his swollen dick was pressing on his brain.  He was so hard, so  _horny._   He just needed one touch and he’d explode.  He heard whimpering, and realised it was coming from himself. 

The touch he craved came not in the form of Sarang’s hand on his erection but a sharp, shocking crack of fire against his back.  It fell over and over, driving the pleasure away and leaving an agony that felt bone-deep.  He couldn’t take another blow, but it wouldn’t stop.

 _Remember the words,_  Sarang had told him.  “Stop,” he screamed, and then remembered.  “Yellow!  No,  _Red!_   Red, red, red, stop, red!” The whip came down once more – on the carpet.  He heard it fall from Sarang’s hand and then Sarang was untying him, pulling him off the bench and onto the ground, cuddling him the way he’d done the night before.  Kris felt his breath hitch and realised he was crying, sobbing actually, and in so much pain that his bones hurt.  Sarang rocked him like a child, petting him until he quieted. 

“You’re okay now,” Sarang said.  “Do you want to lay down?”

Kris nodded and tried to stand, but his legs trembled and gave way beneath him.  Sarang helped him to the bed, where Tao was staring at them both like they’d turned green. 

“I’ll be right back,” Sarang said, once Kris was nestled beside Tao, and let himself out of the room.  Tao trembled, vibrating so hard he shook the bed.  Kris reached out for him, terrified suddenly that they’d done more damage than good.

“Tao,” he said, alarmed. “What is it?  What’s wrong?”

To his complete astonishment, Tao burst into tears.  “He stopped,” he said.  “When you told him to, he  _stopped._ ”

As Kris took Tao in his arms and rocked him just the way Sarang had just held him, he realised that they hadn’t done harm at all.  Just the opposite, actually, and Kris really took in for the first time, what Tao’s life had been like before becoming a trainee, that something so simple as stopping affected him  _so_  deeply.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Tao was embarrassed by the tears when he was finally able to stop crying.  But he also felt better, somehow.  He didn’t want to analyse himself too deeply, because he didn’t think he’d like what he’d find, but all the same he knew that something inside of him had – if not healed – then at least scabbed over.  Kris’s eyes were red and puffy, and he wondered if the older teen was going to have another meltdown over coming back. 

“I hate this guy,” he said, and moved stiffly to retrieve his clothes.  He was sour and Tao abruptly realised that Kris wasn’t getting much of a good deal out of the arrangement.  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Kris wanted him to  _help out_  and then he cut himself off at the last moment, as shame washed through him. 

The door swung open.  Expecting Sarang, Tao paid no attention to it until a female voice rang through the room.  “Isn’t this sweet?  Little babies trying to be all grown up.”

Kris and Tao moved in unison as they both turned to see who it was.  Tao immediately recognised the woman who had pinned Kris down over the bar – Miss Minnie, they’d called her.  An emotion he was completely unfamiliar with reared up inside him and he realised that he hated her. 

“It’s such a pity that you’re so broken,” she told Tao, matter-of-factly.  Her voice slurred slightly around the edges, and he noticed the cup in her hand.  She was  _drunk,_  too.  “You’ll never be man enough to do anything for him,” she informed Kris.  Sarang appeared behind her and cleared his throat. Minnie squeaked like a mouse and retreated, but all three of them glared holes into her back. 

“Kris, what are you doing?”

“Dressing,” Kris said, wincing as his shirt rubbed against his back.  Tao longed to go to him, but with Sarang back in the room, he didn’t dare. 

“Did I tell you we were done?”

Kris looked startled.  “Aren’t we?”

Sarang wasn’t impressed.  “I’m not leaving you with the impression that we treat our subs like that all the time,” he said, and then the wicked smile from the night before was back.  “If you think you can handle one more thing, lay down on the bed.”

Kris glanced at Tao, who shrugged.  Looking uncertain, Kris hesitantly sat on the end of the bed and watched, wide-eyed as Sarang approached him.  Tao watched avidly, wondering what other lesson Kris would be handed.  He was beginning to suspect that the lessons were for his own benefit, however.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Sarang had stopped immediately when Kris used the safeword, checking himself mid-swing and letting the whip hit the ground instead of Kris’s body. 

It turned out to be no lesson at all.  Sarang crawled onto the bed, pushing Kris back down against the mattress in much the same way Minnie had bent him backwards over the bar.  The difference was Sarang held Kris’s wrists above his head with one hand, and used the other to reach inside his still-unfastened jeans and –

Tao felt his face flush and he tried to look away.  His eyes seemed to have developed a brain of their own, however, and he couldn’t seem to blink, much less look elsewhere.  With pure pleasure in mind, Sarang jerked Kris off with expert flicks of his wrist until Kris was thrusting up into his hand helplessly.  Jealousy reared up inside Tao’s chest, and he was almost overcome with a momentary urge to push Sarang away, to take over let  _himself_  be the one getting Kris off. 

Sarang glanced up at him, and their eyes met.  Tao wanted to look away, but he couldn’t, and Sarang, who could apparently read minds, smiled slowly, heatedly.  There was no doubt in Tao’s mind that Sarang knew exactly what he was thinking. 

“Next time, maybe,” he said, as Kris lost control and finally came, arching off the bed.

“What?” Kris panted, but Sarang shook his head.

“I said, that’s repayment for the ruined orgasm.  Do not expect freebies all the time,” he added, and Kris flushed.  Tao watched him, interestedly.  Kris blushed so easily. 

When Sarang released them as free to go, Kris finished dressing with his mind half-elsewhere, and Tao followed him out onto the main floor.  The Minnie woman was at the bar, still drinking.  With a nasty smile, she lifted her drink in a silent toast to them, and Tao considered her words.

She’d called him broken, said Kris wasn’t enough to fix him.  But Sarang had told him that he didn’t need fixing, that only appliances were ‘fixed.’  Tao shot her a dark glare and stepped closer to Kris, linking their hands together as though he could shield Kris from her malevolence with his own body.  Kris, noticing nothing, simply glanced at him with a small smile when he felt Tao reach for his hand. 

He knew Sarang was a good man.  He knew Kris was good, too.  He didn’t think Minnie even knew the definition of good.

*

Kris woke in the middle of the night, arching off the bed in the throes of a nightmare.  He was tied to the spanking bench and the whip was coming down, but he was screaming for it to stop and it didn’t. 

Tao, who’d switched with one of the other trainees to share Kris’s room, was by his side in an instant.  “Kris, wake up,” he was saying.  But he couldn’t possibly be saying that.  Kris didn’t think he’d ever heard Tao call him by name.  “Kris!  Please wake up!  Kris!”

Hands on his shoulders.  He stopped screaming as soon as he realised the noise was coming from him, and then arms went around him.  He opened his eyes and found himself in the darkened dorm room, just like always.  His pulse slowed down and started to return to normal, but the other part of the dream didn’t go away.  Tentatively, Kris put his hands up and felt a warm body pressed against his. 

“Tao?”

“I’m here.  Are you okay?” 

 _He wasn’t alone._   Almost immediately, he relaxed, knowing that he wasn’t by himself.  He still couldn’t quite believe that  _Tao_  was the one reassuring  _him_  but all his senses were telling him what his brain refused to acknowledge.  Already, the edges of the nightmare were fading, becoming less than they were.  “I’m fine,” he said, roughly.  “Just a – a bad dream.” 

 _Just._   He was going on eighteen years old; he should have outgrown nightmares by now. 

“What was it about?”

Kris shook his head and refused to answer.  The look Tao gave him made Kris think he probably already knew anyway.

 

Tao refused to go back to the club right away until he was sure that Kris’s nightmares were through.  So it was that nearly a week went by before that they were able to get the time away from the training program and visit the club again.  Sarang was pleased to see them.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d chased you away altogether,” he said.

Kris shook his head, and glanced at Tao out of the corner of his eye.  “No,” he said.  “We were just busy.”  It was the truth, but not the whole of it.  Tao had put his foot down about coming back too soon – something that Kris both admired and was frustrated by – but back in the club he was reverting to his silent, downcast posture. 

“I’ve had something waiting for you.  Come on.”  He lead them through the crowded club back to the same room they’d been using.  The sheets were still green, and Sarang caught him eyeing them.  “No one’s used this while you were away,” he explained smoothly.  “Although technically anyone can use the private rooms, there are enough of them and few patrons who utilise them that we can reserve them for special circumstances such as yourselves.”

Sarang clapped his hands together briskly.  “So, what do you remember about BDSM?”

Kris raised an eyebrow.  “Is this a test?”

“Indeed.  Answer the question.”

“More than just pain,” Kris recited.  “It’s about pleasure and power and humiliation as well.”

Beneath the silver filigreed mask he still wore, Sarang’s lips curved into a smile.  “Indeed.  Now strip.”

Kris peeled his clothes off, wondering if he’d ever get used to this.  To his surprise, Sarang ordered him to kneel on the floor and lean forward so that he was on all fours, before retrieving something out of the mysterious bureau.  “Try not to be too embarrassed,” Sarang said, and knelt behind him before affixing something to his body that rested gently against the back of his thighs.  It was tight and somewhat uncomfortable, but not painful.  Kris felt his face flame to be handled so intimately, yet casually.  Sarang didn’t linger, however; once – whatever it was – was in place, he stepped back and pulled a black bag from under the bed. 

“This time, Tao, you’re in charge.”

“What?” 

Sarang thrust the bag into his arms.  “There’s a bathroom just past that door; go change.”

From the floor, Kris looked between Tao and Sarang like the dom had lost his mind.  “In charge?  What are you doing now?”

Instead of answering, Sarang just turned back to him.  “I found something special for you, as well, while I was out.  First, I’d like to know if you can stand up.”

Kris scowled.  “Of course I can stand,” he said, and straightened.  The thing nestled against his ass pulled his balls tightly backwards, unnaturally so.  He froze, then got his legs under him.  The pull became painful as soon as he was upright and he dropped back to his hands and knees with a dull  _thud._   “What the hell is that thing?”

Sarang’s smirk widened.  “It’s called a ‘humbler.’  I’m sure you can see why.  Now for the rest of your costume,” he added.  He pulled some things out of the cabinet, and fitted them to Kris’s body.  The first was a ball-gag that went into his mouth, and some kind of headband.  A leather collar went around his neck.   “And my favourite part,” Sarang said, brandishing what looked like a long, tan feather-duster.  He unrolled a condom over one end, collected a dab of lube from the jar on the table, and unceremoniously pushed it into Kris’s ass. 

When he looked back, Kris realised it was a tail.  He reached up and felt the headband, completely unsurprised to find furry triangles attached to it.  “A  _dog?_ ” Through the gag it sounded like  _uh hog?_

“We’re going for a little walkie,” Sarang said, in a babyish voice.  “Don’t you want to go walkies?”

Comprehension dawned.  Kris shot up, shouted, and dropped again immediately as the humbler pulled his balls tight.  “Goddammit,” he swore, just as Tao exited the bathroom.  It came out sounding like  _hohgammid_.

Sarang and Kris both turned to him; Sarang whistled.  “Very nice,” he said.  Kris, unable to speak clearly around the gag, nodded his approval.  Sarang had put Tao in tight leather pants, clunky leather boots with spikes, a teal-blue shiny shirt, and a leather collar with more spikes dangling from it.  Tao was holding something long and thin that looked to Kris terrifyingly like a whip, with a puzzled expression.

“Ah,” Sarang said.  “That goes on Kris.”  He spun the collar around until the D-ring was on the back of his neck.  “Attach it here, please.”  Tao silently stepped forward, staring at Kris as though he’d never seen him before.  Kris lowered his head so he wouldn’t have to look Tao in the eyes.  “I thought we’d go visiting today,” Sarang said while Tao clipped the leash onto the collar.  “Siyah said she’d like a chance to get to know you both.” 

He walked to the door and held it open.  Tao hesitated, uncertain, and Kris balked outright. 

“Do not,” Sarang said, eyes flashing behind the mask, “and I repeat,  _do not_  make me force you out onto this floor.  Tao, you should know better.  Walk with me.”

Tao lowered his head, but stepped forward slowly, giving the leash time to stretch out behind them.  Kris was forced to crawl forward on his hands and knees.  His eyes burned and his face felt like it was on fire, but it wasn’t until he stretched forward to put his leg up that he realised the toy inside him was ribbed in just the right way so that it rubbed against his prostate when he moved.  This little ‘walkie’ was going to be hell on earth.

 

-o0o-

Please remain seated for a quick commercial break:

**Baekhyun is an exec at a top record label who is under pressure to scout and sign the Next Big Thing.  He meets a free-spirited indie rock guitarist who turns his life upside down, along with his definition of the Next Big Thing.  Will the cutthroat music industry bring them together or tear them apart?**

To find out, please check out [sohbet'](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/279104)s new fic "[Phoenix Rising](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/362785/phoenix-rising)" here on AFF!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

Uncomfortable and feeling put-upon, Tao held the leash loosely.  He’d never been paraded in a dog costume before, and he felt bad for Kris, who he knew had to be chafing under the treatment.  Sarang strolled along beside them like it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Their first stop was the bar, where Angelique – who had gotten extensions or a wig sometime between their last visit and now – flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked down her nose at Kris.

“This is new,” she said.  “Is there a reason for it?”

“Several,” Sarang said, loftily.  At his feet, Kris was quivering like a strung bow.  Tao kept sneaking glances at him, but his expression was perfectly blank, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared into nothing.  There were lines at the corners of his mouth, however, that put Tao on edge.  It was bizarre enough seeing him down on his knees like this. 

“I don’t think this is going to end well,” Angelique was saying.  Sarang waved her off. 

“We just need a drink.  Soda or water for Tao; which would you prefer?” 

Tao jumped when he realised both Sarang and Angelique were waiting on him to give an answer.  On one hand, he knew he wouldn’t be in trouble.  On the other…

“You  _can_  speak,” Sarang reminded him, gently.  “You’re not a sub tonight.”

Which would be fine if it were something he could turn off and on at will.  “Water, please,” he said, and hated himself for the way his voice cracked in the middle of the words. 

“And water for Kris; I doubt alcohol is the best thing for him right now.”  

Angelique looked like she was going to have more to say in a moment, but she shut her mouth instead and prepared two glasses of water and a drink for Sarang.  He took them all expertly in his hands, and jerked his head to the other side of the club where a pretty, foreign-looking woman was holding court on a series of couches on one of the small stages. 

“On second thought, one for Siyah as well,” Sarang said.  Angelique wrinkled her nose.

“Minnie’s over there with her.”

Every alarm in Tao’s head was ringing.  It was nothing he could define, even to himself, but something about Minnie didn’t sit right with him.  She was almost familiar, except that he knew for a fact he’d never met her before.  And she seemed to outright hate him and Kris, for no reason he could think of. 

 While Sarang was busy with Angelique, Tao took advantage of his inattention and knelt down beside Kris.  “Are you okay?” he whispered.  It felt like breaking rules, and a cold sweat broke out on his palms at the thought of what Sarang might do to him, but even as he was entering the early stages of a full-blown panic attack, a small voice in the back of his head reminded him that Sarang was a good man.  He followed his own rules.  And if the rules in Sarang’s head were that Tao wasn’t a sub for the night, then that put him on equal – or near equal – footing with Sarang himself.

He couldn’t quite make himself believe it.  But he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and drawing a lock of hair off Kris’s face.

Kris turned to face him, eyes still wide – Tao had the disconcerting feeling that Kris wasn’t seeing him just then –and nodded.  He briefly held one hand up in a thumbs-up/I’m-great gesture that somehow wasn’t reassuring at all.  It went against the natural order of things to see Kris bent in half by the strange device Sarang had produced.  He’d never felt so divided in his life.  The path had always been clear before: he was the trouble-maker, the one who wasn’t good enough.  He was the youngest, and not good enough.  He was the dirtiest, and not good enough. 

He’d always felt he deserved the things he’d been handed, deep down inside, even when he sometimes railed against the unfairness of it all. 

But he couldn’t figure out what Kris had done to deserve this -  _dehumanization._   His whole world was suddenly flipped upside down and he didn’t know if the next step would send him hurtling off the earth into space or not. 

“Siyah’s a good person,” Sarang said, unexpectedly.  Tao jumped.  “She’s been yelling at me about keeping you two hidden all this time.  If you really aren’t comfortable speaking to her, you don’t have to, but she may speak to you.”

Tao nodded to express his understanding, and they turned away from the bar and made their way across the club. 

*

This was more than humiliating, Kris thought.  It was degrading.  Having them speak over his head as though he were no more than a dog was infuriating, and his skin itched as though ants were crawling all over him.  He could call it off at any time, but he didn’t know what kind of effect it might have on Tao.  He wondered what the young trainee was thinking, but Tao’s face was as blank as ever. 

As he moved, the toy-end of the tail rubbed against him, maddeningly.  Totally against his will he found himself becoming aroused by it, and hated it even more.  It was getting to the point where he wasn’t even seeing the club, just a daydream in which someone took everything off of him and let him come.  He would have even welcomed being tied down to something – anything at all to prove to himself that this wasn’t  _voluntary._

He shuddered and twitched as they walked – or crawled, in his case – across the floor of the club to Siyah’s throne, and the gag in his mouth kept him from adding to Sarang’s one-sided conversation with Tao.  Climbing the short stairs to the stage where Siyah held court was agony, but in the back of his mind Kris chanted  _For Tao, for Tao, for Tao_  and refused to show weakness.  As far as he could tell, this was an exercise in drawing Tao’s natural personality back out of the submissive shell, and proving that not all doms were psychos, and that even people like Kris could handle this stuff.  It was imperative that Tao not know how badly it was going inside his head.

Images began to flash through his mind of being stuck like this for the rest of his life, of kneeling by force because he was literally unable to stand.  He thought of the way Tao knelt almost in defense, and considered that although it was an obeisant position, it also afforded the best physical protection – easy to lean forward and tuck your head in to keep people from hitting you where it’d do the most damage.  It  _was_  defensive when Tao knelt.  Sarang made himself comfortable on one of the empty couches, somehow got Tao to do the same.  Kris sat between their feet, curled in on himself as far as he could to keep the humbler from being painful. 

“Tao, I’d like you to meet Lady Siyah and her entourage,” Sarang said.  “Siyah, this is Tao, and Kris.”

Kris bit down on the gag, hating that this woman was just looking at him like someone might examine an artefact in a museum.  Or worse, a hunk of meat in a butcher’s shop.   To his immense surprise, Tao actually spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Siyah, Miss Minnie,” he said.  Kris felt his heart pounding against his ribs.   _They were doing it!_   Tao  _almost never_  spoke without an explicit command, or raised his voice above a whisper.  Pride threatened to overwhelm him, and for a moment, he forgot about his own circumstances as happiness bubbled up inside. 

Siyah’s voice was rich and throaty, and had the rough quality of a lifelong chainsmoker.  “It’s nice to finally meet you as well,” she said.  “I’ve heard a lot about you from Sarang but I was beginning to think you were a myth.” 

“Would I lie?” Sarang asked. 

“You’re a man,” said Minnie.  “All men lie, all the time.  It’s just that sometimes the lies are closer to the truth and sometimes they’re further away.”

“You’re just a bitter hag,” Sarang said sharply, surprising Kris and drawing a gasp out of some of the other people present. 

“Better a bitter hag than a lying son of a –”

“Minnie!”

Kris didn’t dare look up.  Staring at his hands, he watched his fingers curl into fists against the smooth floor.  A stain of something blue that might have been the remnants of wax became the object of his intense scrutiny. 

One of the women stood up; he could see their feet out of the corner of his eyes.  “It’s true!  I’m  _quite_  sure he said the one he was training to be a dom was  _Kris,_  and that Tao was the sub, but look.  Who’s on the floor?  It’s not Tao.  And I’m  _also_  positive he said that his taste didn’t run to little boys whose balls haven’t dropped but it sure looks like they’re awful close–”

Siyah’s voice rang out.  “Minnie, that’s enough.  You need to leave.” 

With a disdainful sniff, Minnie stomped down the steps and away.  Whether or not she left the club, Kris couldn’t tell and didn’t care. 

“Sorry about her,” Siyah said.  “She’s going through a rough divorce.”

“Why,” Sarang interrupted.  “Is she on trial for murder as well?”

“Sarang,” Siyah said, warningly. 

“Well, I’d just like to know if she actually succeeded in nagging her husband to death.”

Siyah practically growled.  After a moment, she seemed to get herself back under control.  “Tao, I’m very sorry you had to deal with her right now.  There’s no making excuses for her, but I  _am_  sorry you had to hear that.”

Tao jerked slightly; Kris could feel it even without looking.  He was positive Tao was looking down at the floor right now, too.  “It’s okay,” he said.  Kris wanted to leap and shout; Tao was doing so well.  Then Sarang kicked the tail – whether by accident or design – and Kris shuddered, whining slightly as it moved.  He  _hurt_  and now that he was reminded of the pain it suddenly seemed big enough to swallow him whole. 

None of them seemed to notice him.  Kris felt invisible, and wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than them staring at him like a circus sideshow. 

“Tao, I’ve been wanting to introduce you to someone.  This is Mayah, my full-time sub.  She’s here most nights with me,” Siyah said.  Kris glanced up and saw a girl in her early twenties.  She had the same downcast look to her face, the same half-hunch/half-flinch he’d seen in Tao.  He wondered what her story was.  Ken was Sarang’s sub, and he was like a puppy, always smiling and bouncing around.  Tao and Mayah looked as though they’d been beaten down again and again, but somehow still were finding the strength to get up every day and face it anyway. 

“Mistress,” Mayah said – and stopped.  Kris was puzzled.

“You may speak,” said Siyah, warmly.

“Tao, I would like to… talk to you.  Someday soon.  If you’d like.”

Tao hesitated, and then he must have nodded, because within Kris’s field of vision, both Mayah and Siyah’s faces lit up with bright smiles. 

“I think it may be good for you,” Siyah said. 

Sarang’s hand came down on Kris’s head.  “Are you thirsty?” he asked, and for a moment Kris was so dissociated from his own situation that it didn’t even register that Sarang might be talking to him until Sarang’s finger’s tightened in his hair.  “Kris?”

He shook his head, hating the gag, and hating the collar he could feel Tao playing with.  On one hand, it was good that Tao felt comfortable enough to fidget.  On the other, every tug on the leash made him think he was about to be hit with it. 

“I think we’ve covered everything important for today,” Sarang said suddenly.  Tao was on his feet instantly.  Kris, slower, pulled himself back up onto his hands and knees, feeling his face burn.  “One moment,” Sarang said, and without any warning, had unlatched the humbler from Kris’s body. 

Around the gag, Kris cried out as feeling returned abruptly, and with it, more pain.  It was one thing for Sarang to hit him with the paddle, when the pain was built gradually with spaces for resting and pleasure as well.  This was sudden and overwhelming.  Tao held the leash taut, and when Kris glanced up at him, he could see horror and dismay in his eyes as he twisted the end of the leash around his hands.  He looked down and seemed to realise what he was doing, for immediately the leash fell loose again as he dropped it but for the loop at the end, which he clutched like a lifeline. 

“Can you stand?” Sarang asked, and Kris used the couch to pull himself up. Now he  _really_  felt on display, raised two feet above the floor on a dais that put him above everyone else’s head.  No one was truly paying him any attention, but his upright position reminded him that he was still completely nude.  The new position moved the tail around inside him, renewing his involuntary erection.  It suddenly made sense to him why Tao might want to keep his eyes on the floor all the time; it was better than having to look people in the eyes who had seen you at your very worst. 

His legs tingled and his whole body throbbed in time with his pulse which seemed to roar through his ears like waves crashing against the shore.  With the plug inside him rubbing, the pain was turning into a sparkling pleasure that threatened to embarrass him even more. 

“It’s okay,” Sarang said, and then they were walking again.  Kris was nearly to the door of the room when his legs gave out beneath him.  Tao was beside him instantly.

“Are you okay?  Does it hurt?  What can I do?” 

For a moment, Kris didn’t even recognise his voice.  Then Sarang was kneeling, too, one hand under Kris’s knees and the other behind his back, and had lifted him.  This shifted the toy  _again_  as gravity started pulling on it and Kris’s breath hitched.  This was almost worse than the night they’d left him in the room.  He wanted  _so badly_  to finish and he didn’t know how to tell them that, and would rather have died than asked anyway. 

Sarang seemed to know.  He told Tao to wait outside, and carried Kris in alone.

*

Tao wrapped his arms around his chest and stared at the closed door, wondering what they were doing inside.  He was torn completely in two by the entire encounter; on one hand, he felt stronger than he ever had, seeing Kris like that.  Seeing Mayah, Lady Siyah’s sub.  And he also felt excited by Kris, something that had never happened before.  Was he supposed to act on it?  What if Kris didn’t feel the same way?  Could he handle that sort of rejection?  Did he even want to act on it?  He’d been rebuffed before. 

The door swung open and Kris stepped out, looking remarkably calmer.  The lines around his mouth were still there, making him look like he’d aged twenty years in one night, but the intensity was gone.

In fact, everything seemed to be gone.  Kris appeared almost deflated, like a leaking balloon that had lost most of its helium.  He stared right through Tao as if he couldn’t see him. 

“Sarang wants you in there,” he said, dully, and made his way past Tao to the bar.  For the first time in years, Tao deliberately disobeyed a direct order and instead of immediately going into the room, he turned to watch Kris make his way to the bar.  He was limping slightly, but standing as tall as ever.  Tao waited until Kris was sitting, gingerly, on a barstool and had struck up a normal-looking conversation with Angelique before he went in to see Sarang. 

Sarang had his clothes sitting neatly on the end of the bed, but Tao ignored them.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked, and then snapped his mouth shut before anything else came out; the scene was over, his right to equality was gone. 

“I think so,” Sarang said, slowly.  “I’d like you to keep an eye on him, however.  Just in case.” 

Just in case.  The words were prophetic.  Instead, he gathered his clothes up and went back into the bathroom to change out of the things Sarang had given him.  He tried to give it back, but Sarang refused to accept it.

“If they fit, keep them.  They’re yours.  It’s called a gift, Tao,” he added, when Tao tried to leave the bag behind anyway.  Blushing, Tao held the bag like a shield in front of himself when he left the room.  He collected Kris from the bar, and walked back to the dorm with him in silence, neither of them willing to go over the scene just yet.

 

Kris left him at the door, citing the need for a shower.  Tao greeted the other trainees they roomed with, earning himself some surprised looks, and thought about how much easier it was to just talk to someone.  He didn’t feel entirely right about what had occurred, with Kris, but it was an almost poetic feeling inside his chest.  Like there had been a seed in his heart when he was born, and it had started to grow with him.  Over the years, the gang leaders and the doms had tried to rip it out, prune it back and keep it from growing, but his time with Kris and Sarang was acting like water and sunshine.  He felt like maybe that seed of  _himself_  was putting out buds, trying to bloom.  He nurtured the mental image and felt stronger than he ever had before. 

  He put the clothes Sarang had given him away, and poked around the room for something to do while Kris was in the shower.  Finding nothing, he wandered into the living room and perched himself away from the other trainees.  One of the Korean boys, Jongdae, was sitting beside Luhan, practicing his Mandarin while Luhan used him as an excuse to practice his Korean.  It was hysterically funny, and almost heart-warming, to see such disparate people communicating, despite the language and cultural barriers between them. 

Almost half an hour had passed when he realised he still had not seen Kris.  Since Kris’s showers normally took only ten minutes – fifteen at the outside – this was out of the ordinary, and somewhat alarming.  Excusing himself with a quiet word, Tao went down the hall and heard the shower running.  He knocked on the door, but didn’t get an answer.  Suddenly afraid Kris might have done something terrible, he pushed the door, found it unlocked, and stepped into the bathroom.

It was like a sauna.  Steam roiled and the mirrors had fogged. Kris’s clothes were discarded on the floor in a pile; Tao had to check the urge to fold them up neatly, and forced himself to speak again.

“Kris?” he called.  The bathroom wasn’t large, but he could barely see through the lingering steam.  He pulled the glass shower door open and saw Kris sitting on the floor of the shower, his knees drawn up to his chest, his skin red.  The hot water was on full blast, and Tao reached in when Kris didn’t respond, to turn it off. 

“I’m sorry,” Kris said, shivering in the sudden absence of hot water.  “I just can’t get clean.”  He rubbed his hands down his arms and left white marks where his nails dug into the skin.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

Tao dragged him out of the shower and covered him with a towel.  A dozen questions raced through his mind, but he couldn’t find it in himself again to ask them just yet.  Kris stood lifelessly, almost like a doll, while Tao dried him briskly, and seemed only half-aware when Tao handed him the towel to wrap around himself to walk down the hall to their room.  He dressed mechanically only after Tao handed him the pyjamas. 

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.  The words welled up inside him and burst out like they were living creatures, sentient and entirely separate from him.  “Are you okay?”

Kris blinked, and seemed to pull himself in from a distance before smiling.  It was the old smile, and Tao relaxed almost involuntarily at the sight of it.  “I’m fine,” he said.  His tone was completely at odds with his words and his expression, but Tao couldn’t have felt any more helpless if he’d been tied to the bed.  “I’m really proud of you,” he continued, his voice almost robotic.  “You did really well tonight.”

Tao flushed with unexpected pride.  “So did you.”  He was shocked at himself, but Kris only smiled wider.

“I’m glad,” he said, and to Tao’s immense relief, there was feeling,  _real feeling_ , back in his voice.   “I think it’s time for bed now,” Kris continued, and crawled between the sheets before collapsing onto his stomach.  Tao found himself staring at the curve of Kris’s hip, the slight dip of his back, and then shook himself and turned out the light. 

A terrible noise woke him some few hours later.  He came alert instantly, wondering if it was his father, or if Zed had found him, and then it came again and he realised it was Kris, crying out in his sleep.

“ _Take it off,_ ” he mumbled.  “I can’t stand it!”

Tao pulled himself out of his bed and padded across the room to where Kris lay twisted in his sheets.  “Wake up,” he said, and reached out to shake him.  The minute he touched Kris’s shoulder, the older teen bolted upright and in one movement, had Tao’s arm twisted up behind him and was pinning him to the bed.  The light coming in through the window gave him enough to see the wide, unblinking stare Kris had leveled on him, and for a moment he wondered if the scene earlier in the club had broken something in Kris’s mind.  It was only for a second, though, and then Kris blinked and shook himself, releasing Tao with a murmured apology. 

“You scared me,” he said.

Somehow, it was easier in the dark.  “ _You_  scared  _me,_ ” Tao replied.  He poked at Kris’s hip until he slid over in the tiny mattress, leaving just enough room for Tao to crawl into bed beside him.  They lay in a tense, awkward silence so thick it could have been cut with a knife, and then Tao seized his courage with both hands.  “I used to get into bed with my mother when I was a kid,” he confided.  Kris didn’t reply immediately, but the sharp intake of breath told Tao that he’d been heard and understood.

“What was your mother like?”

Tao closed his eyes and reached back nearly ten years into his memories.  “Warm,” he said.  “Loving, I guess.  She loved me.  She loved my father.”  His voice turned bitter, surprising himself.  “That love killed her.”

Kris rolled over and faced Tao, only the glinting light reflected in his eyes and a strip of his jaw visible in the darkness.  “Love doesn’t kill people,” he said. 

“It does when… when you refuse to get out of a bad situation because of it.”  He could look back now, knowing what he knew, and understand that his father had been bad.  His mother stayed with him because she loved Tao, and maybe in her heart, she loved her husband.  If she’d left – if she’d taken Tao with her when she went – she would still be alive.  Tao wouldn’t have gone to the streets. 

Would he have met Kris?

Was that a fair exchange?  If he could go back and save his mother’s life, would it be worth losing the budding friendships he was developing with the other trainees, worth losing – whatever it was that he had with Kris? 

“How did she die?”

“Her love killed her,” Tao repeated.  “It’s why I can’t love anyone.”

Kris snorted.  Despite himself, Tao smiled.  “That’s bullshit,” Kris said, and his voice was warming back up.  Tao wished he could bottle the sound of Kris’s voice and bathe in it.  He wondered if he could get the older teen to record himself speaking, so that Tao could listen to it before going to bed each night.

With the darkness giving him courage, Tao shook his head.  “It’s true,” he said, and apprehension filled him for a moment.  When Kris didn’t yell at him for refuting the statement, he continued.  “I loved my mother, and she died.  I loved Mica.  And he died.  And Tandem, and Catty, and Sienna.  They all died because I loved them.” 

“They died because they were in a terrible place, where terrible things happen.  Other people killed them with guns.  Your love didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Tao didn’t respond.  He knew. 

They lapsed into silence for a while.  Tao fidgeted with the blanket, but couldn’t bring himself to speak.  Somehow, Kris knew.

“Just say it,” he said, startling Tao, who thought he’d already fallen asleep again.

“What can I call you?”

“…What?”

Tao repeated himself, and shifted again so that he was facing Kris, who gave a one-armed shrug.

“Kris,” he said.  “Yifan.”

“I can’t call you Kris.”

“You have before.”

Under the cover of darkness, Tao flushed.  He  _had_  called him by name before… the first time he’d woken him from a nightmare, and earlier that night, when he pulled him from the shower.  “That was… different.”

“No it’s not.”  Kris was smiling now; he could tell just from the tone of his voice.  “You’ve said it before, just say it again.   _Kris._ ”

“I – Kh – I can’t.”

“Just say it.  Come on, say ‘Kris.’”

It was a direct order, he couldn’t refuse.  “K-Kris.”  It felt awkward – and nice. 

“See how easy that was?”

Tao shook his head.  “It’s not easy.”

“What do you want to call me?”

 _Master._   Tao blushed hotly; he could feel it.  “Hyung?”

“ _Kris_ hyung?”

He shook his head.  Kris sighed. 

“Gege?”

Tao brightened.  “I like that,” he said.  “Gege,” he said, trying it out. 

“One day,” Kris mumbled.  “One day you’ll say my name without being told.”  Then, between one breath and the next, he fell asleep.  Tao lay awake for a long time, watching the lights of passing cars play out over the walls.  Just before he succumbed to sleep himself, he felt one of Kris’s arms snake out from beneath the covers and loop around his waist and draw him in, away from the edge of the bed – closer to Kris’s body.  He could feel the heat coming off him.  Obscurely comfortable, he fell asleep.

*

Kris woke up cold, and couldn’t figure out what was missing.  His skin crawled when memories of the night before crowded into his brain, competing with the thought of Tao nestled against him like a life-sized doll.   _That had to be a dream,_  he thought.  But the club was most certainly real.  He shivered, and scratched his nails down his arms, trying to make things feel right again.  It was as though something had turned him inside out and stretched him before trying to smush him back into the proper shape.  It was like he didn’t fit inside his body anymore.  The more he lay there and thought about it, the worse off he felt.  Tao would never respect him again, not after seeing him – like  _that._    

He remembered waking up in the middle of the night, and waking Tao as well.  He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it would be better for both of them if he got another room.  He was exhausted from lying awake most of the night and if it  _hadn’t_  been a dream, then Tao had lain awake with him.  That wasn’t healthy for either of them.  He began to doubt whether or not going to a club like that for guidance had been the best idea.  He pulled on clothes and exited the room, only to be greeted at the end of the hall by an exuberant Tao.

“Gege!  Good morning!  Kyungsoo-hyung is cooking us breakfast, isn’t that nice?”

Kris blinked.   _Who are you and what have you done with Tao?_   “Uh,” he said, belatedly.  “Good morning.”  Now that Tao had mentioned it, he could smell something delicious wafting out of the kitchen. 

“It’s a western-type breakfast called  _pancakes,_ ” Tao said, pronouncing the unfamiliar word carefully.  “Also flapjacks or griddle cakes.  He’s even got a sweet sauce made of maple sap to pour over it.”

“Syrup,” Luhan called, correcting him lightly.  Tao – who just three days ago wouldn’t have been speaking at all, but if he had, might have taken the correction as an indication that he was about to be punished – merely inclined his head and corrected himself.

“Maple syrup,” he said.  “It’s very sweet.”

He practically bounced back into the kitchen.  Luhan stepped up beside Kris and chuckled.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Kris choked.  “Excuse me?”

“He’s like a completely different person.  We figured that since you had a date last night and came in so late, and Tao was in bed with you this morning when I came to wake you up – well.  It’s the natural conclusion, right?  He seems happier.  We just thought maybe he got laid.”

 _A date.  Luhan had seen them in bed together, and the other trainees assumed they were dating._   Kris wanted to laugh, except it wasn’t really all that funny.  “No,” Kris said flatly, wanting to nip that rumour in the bud.  “I didn’t have sex with him.”   _I’m never having sex at all,_  he added silently.  It still felt like ants were crawling all over him.  The idea of letting anyone else that close to him was nauseating. 

In the middle of a debate over whether or not he could even bring himself to show his face back at the club, Tao reappeared holding a pan.  “Gege,” he said, and Kris turned automatically to the sound of his voice.  “Breakfast is ready,” Tao continued.  “I’m helping.  Isn’t this cool?  I’ve never cooked anything before.”  He vanished into the kitchen again, and Kris rubbed his forehead, wondering if maybe he’d fallen into an alternate dimension. 

“Are you  _sure_  you didn’t fuck the shy out of him?” Luhan asked in an undertone, on his way into the kitchen to fix his plate. 

Kris dropped into a crouch and cradled his head in his arms.   _Where the hell am I?_  he wondered.  The other trainees all assumed Tao’s reticence was due to  _shyness._   They thought they were dating.  They thought he and Tao were  _fucking!_

“Gege,” Tao called.  “Come and eat.” 

Whatever Sarang had done to him in that club must have been a miracle. 

*

Tao felt lighter than he had in years.  It was as if a weight had been taken right off his chest, finally allowing him to breathe and move and speak.  He knew some of it was Kris.  Seeing Kris in a terrible position, and then getting back up and… being normal.  If someone like Kris could do it, Tao could learn.  And some of it was Mayah, and the Lady Siyah.  They had a wonderful dynamic, one Tao wanted with someone as well.  He fell short of figuring out who it would be with.  His heart screamed  _Kris!_  but his brain was overcome with trepidation.  Kris was barely three years older than he was, and still learning.  Who was to say if he actually  _wanted_  to spend the rest of his life ordering Tao around?  They hadn’t even debuted yet; they had their whole fan-filled lives ahead of them.  Probably Kris would find a nice girl and settle down and get married, and have kids…

He couldn’t keep Kris, anyway, Tao realised suddenly.  If he got closer to him than he already was, he might begin to love him.  And although Kris had scoffed… Tao knew that if he loved Kris, it would be no better than taking up a pen and signing his name on the death warrant.  He froze for a moment, caught in the middle of what he was doing, until Kyungsoo snapped at him to watch the pancake to make sure it didn’t burn.  Mechanically, he flipped it, trying to find a way around it. 

Maybe, if he just remained friends with Kris, and took care not to let himself really  _love…_

But Kris was so  _loveable,_  his heart argued.  The way his hair stuck up one side in the mornings when he’d been sleeping on it.  The wide-eyed look of bewilderment he wore sometimes when someone surprised him.  The way he was willing to not only step outside his comfort zone but set the boundary on fire for a kid he barely knew…

Kyungsoo yelled at him again, snapping Tao out of the daze he was slipping into.  “This one’s no good,” he said, and threw it away.  Tao watched it tumble – one side perfectly golden brown, one side blacker than night – into the garbage and wondered if that was how he would end up, too.  Perfect on the outside, but hidden within was something charred and tasteless.  Good for nothing but disposal. 

He shook off the encroaching depression by turning his whole attention back to Kyungsoo and forcibly pressing out every thought that didn’t have something to do with pancakes, and the proper way to cook them. 

 

More than once over the course of the day, he caught Kris staring at him like his head had turned green.  He couldn’t help himself, however, and for once, he didn’t want to.  He felt  _free_  and it was a glorious sensation. 

*

As the day progressed, and Tao showed no signs of relapsing back into his prior silent, jumpy persona, Kris wondered if it was really going to be that easy.  Could they really have undone years of abuse and neglect with a few weeks of encouragement?  He didn’t think so, but Tao had made a remarkable leap forward. 

Kris wished he could say the same.  They seemed to have switched personalities; he found himself jumping at loud noises – whenever someone raised their voice or dropped something or the television volume got too high – and he kept looking at the others, wondering if they could see the remnants of what he’d done branded on his skin.  It was a rest day in which none of them had any lessons, and the other trainees were beginning to mingle a little more – what seemed like half the trainee population seemed to have settled into their dorm for a movie marathon, and every time someone brushed up against Kris, he shuddered involuntarily. 

Every time he thought of the picture he must have presented – crawling on all fours with the dog-tail sticking out behind him, pressing against him on the inside and arousing him beyond his control – his revulsion mounted.  By midafternoon, his stomach was roiling, and he had to excuse himself to the bathroom before he actually threw up the minimal amount of food he’d managed to force down. 

 _How did Tao manage it?_  he wondered.   _On display, tied up and helpless…_

He looked over at Tao, laughing quietly at one of the Korean trainee’s attempts to say something in Mandarin – unhelpfully assisted by Luhan and Minseok – and envied him for the first time. 

 

* * *

while you're waiting for an update from me, why don't you go check out sohbet's incredible new wip, [Phoenix Rising](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/362785/1/)?  YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

The cycle of nightmares continued for nearly two weeks, like clockwork.  He would wake two or three hours after falling asleep, from dreams he could never quite remember, but which left the impression of bone-deep terror.  It would keep him awake for several more hours, until he finally managed to drift off again into a light doze sometime around dawn. 

From the deepening dark circles beneath Tao’s eyes, Kris knew he wasn’t the only one suffering because of it.  Finally, he went to the dorm manager and requested a private room.

“For all of me, you can have your own room,” the manager said.  “There’s a free one at the end of your hallway.  It’s not much bigger than a closet, but it’s furnished and empty.” 

Kris accepted it, and went to check it out.  As promised, it was large enough only to contain a mattress, a small closet, a bathroom, and a dresser, but as he only needed it to sleep, it would suit his purposes.  As he made his way back to the dorm to collect his things, he saw a group of trainees leaving; Tao was among them.  He wasn’t talking – after that first day, he’d slipped back into his customary silence, but he was more likely to engage in conversation if someone spoke to him first.  And more importantly, Kris noted, he was finding it easier to look at people, in their faces, rather than their feet.  Surely -  _surely_  - that had to count for something in the cosmic scheme of things. 

It was now Kris who felt he couldn’t look anyone in the eyes.  He was certain that his every secret was written across his face, that one look would tell anyone everything they needed to know about the depraved things he’d done – willingly.  That made it worse, somehow.  He couldn’t fault Tao for the things he’d done and seen in his life; it wasn’t his choice.  Kris had knowingly and willingly accepted the treatment, and he loathed himself for it. 

Slipping into the room, he emptied his drawers and his side of the closet, took his things from the bathroom.  There really wasn’t much besides clothing to bring with him.  A stuffed panda Yixing had given him as a birthday gift was the only real non-clothing item he needed to bring, aside from toiletries and other necessities. 

He wondered why he felt like an adulterous husband, sneaking in at night and packing in silence, and though he couldn’t explain it to himself, the sensation increased his discomfort with himself.  Tao probably wouldn’t understand, he realised suddenly.  He wondered if he ought to leave a note, and then remembered it wasn’t like he was moving away permanently.  He was just sleeping somewhere else so that Tao could get some much-needed rest, as well. 

It was none too soon, either.  Just the other day, Tao had fumbled his steps in their dance class.  And Tao, who was grace reincarnated in physical form, did  _not_  stumble.  Ever.  It was, Kris realised, an outward sign of his exhaustion.  He didn’t stop to consider that his own dancing, and even his grades in the tutoring program, were falling behind company standards as well, but in the back of his mind, he was completely aware of it. 

Tao had stopped sleeping with him after the first few nights, because he was deeply uncomfortable with the proximity.  Kris didn’t fault him for it; he didn’t want to be anywhere near himself either.  When all of his things were gathered, he was somewhat astonished to realise they all fit inside one laundry basket.  His life had been so full in the training program with the company that he never realised he didn’t have much in the way of physical possessions. 

He  _was_  going to miss sleeping in here.  The sound of Tao’s breathing, the little snuffling noises he made when he woke up, the bleary, half-lidded expression on his face first thing in the morning… they were all a part of  _living with Tao_  that Kris had come to cherish.  He had to forcibly remind himself that it wasn’t a permanent separation.  He would still take his meals here, and train with them, and learn with them. 

He just couldn’t sleep here anymore. 

*

Tao had started the day with a sensation deep in his gut that something was going to go wrong, and he was on edge the entire day waiting for it.  When Luhan suggested they all go out for bubble tea, he wondered if maybe it was because he’d been cooped up inside the dorm and training facility for weeks, and agreed to go. 

He looked around at the group – it was always the same people, he realised, and he knew their names and their personalities.  Kyungsoo and Jongin were attached at the hip, and Kyungsoo enjoyed cooking.  Jongin was the best, most natural dance talent Tao had ever seen, and he was thrilled to have a chance to learn alongside him.  Luhan was prone to filthy remarks that left the others blushing, which, combined with his girly face was astonishing to hear.  Yixing was long familiar with television and performing, but had grown from an exuberant youth into a quiet and modest teen, who nonetheless had surprising insights when he opened his mouth to utter them.

To his surprise, the trainees were coming to be like a family to him.  The only one missing was Kris, but Luhan – who always seemed to  _know_  - had told them Kris was in a meeting and wouldn’t be able to come with them.  This sparked a conversation about the tall half-foreign trainee that Tao listened to eagerly, wondering if he would be asked to contribute.

“He’s been weird lately,” Kyungsoo said.  “He looks pale all the time, and he’s not eating.”

Jongin smiled.  “You would think of food first,” he teased.  Kyungsoo flushed.   Tao marveled at their easy camaraderie. 

Yixing sighed.  “He’s been having nightmares,” he confided.  “Tao, I don’t know how you’re managing to sleep in the same room.  He wakes me up from across the hall sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Luhan said.  “I’ve been wondering about that.  He wakes me up too, and he always looks tired.  Speaking of, so do you.  So I guess you’re not sleeping too great either.  Any idea what he’s dreaming about?”

The others were used to his silence, and talk broke and flowed around him like a river parting around a rock.  Tao considered it, despite his silence.  He knew  _precisely_  what the nightmares were about; he often woke when he heard Kris talking in his sleep, before the yelling started that awakened the others. From comments Kris had made when he was awake, Tao realised that he himself didn’t even remember the details of his own dreams.  He could have said,  _It’s the club,_  and didn’t.

He could have said,  _It’s me._  

But he didn’t.

That was the most puzzling of all; the way Kris would say his name, yanking him out of a dead sleep.  Expecting Kris to be awake, he would get out of bed and go closer to be able to hear him, only to have the next sound Kris emitted be a gentle snore, or an unintelligible murmur.  Sometimes he said things like ‘don’t go’ and ‘stay with me’ but they never made any sense, either.  It wasn’t as though  _Tao_  was going anywhere.

He had nowhere else to go.

 

The bubble-tea group-outing was a rousing success, and spirits were high when they returned to the dorm.  The sour feeling in the pit of his stomach returned full force, drawing a stifled gasp out of him when he pushed open the door to his bedroom.  Kris wasn’t in it; his bed was neatly made. 

That was the first clue.  Kris never made his bed if he could help it.  It wasn’t as though he were messy about it – it was his clothes that Tao waged a constant battle against, not his bed dressings – but he’d said on more than one occasion that he couldn’t see the point in straightening the blankets in the morning if he was just going to rumple them all up that night anyway. 

The second thing he noticed was a distinct  _emptiness_  to the room.  It felt as though someone had died.  He knew nothing serious had happened to Kris – they would have been called back from their outing if he’d been admitted to the hospital for anything, just so that the dorm managers could keep an eye on the rest of them.  But he scoured the room with his gaze again and realised what was missing.

The clutter.  The clothes Kris was forever leaving all over the floor – and berating Tao for picking up – were gone.  Tao crossed the room without remembering how he moved – if he’d flown or teleported or run, or simply walked – he simply found himself beside the drawers Kris had claimed.  They were empty.  All of them.  The closet, when he yanked the door open, contained only his own belongings.  Nothing of Kris remained in the room.

He’d even taken that ridiculous panda plush Yixing had given him, which Tao loved, and Kris professed to hate, except for the part where he wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. 

Someone knocked on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a reply.  “It sounds like a herd of wild buffalo romping around in here,” Luhan said.  “What are you doing?”

   “Where is he!” Tao burst out.  “Where’s Kris?”

Luhan looked, wide-eyed, around the room, taking in the same details Tao had noticed.  He shrugged.  “He wasn’t – dismissed, was he?”

“Wouldn’t they have told us?”

“Not necessarily.  Did he get any weird letters recently?  Was he acting strange?  Well, stranger than normal, I mean.”  Luhan came fully into the room and peered into the closet and the empty drawers. 

Tao shook his head, withdrawing as panic began to set in.  Would Kris really have left without even saying goodbye?  Had he been kicked out of the training program?  Luhan left to question the others, and Tao retreated to his bed, drawing his legs up to his chest and staring mutely at the empty mattress where Kris should have been.

*

Kris opened his eyes and realised that for the first time in weeks, he felt rested and alert.  He looked at the clock on the bedside table, which told him – unhelpfully – that it was six in the morning.  He’d flopped into bed around five the evening before and fallen asleep.  He’d slept through the night. 

Jubilant, he rolled off the bed and made his way to the shower; it felt awkward to undress but since the door was locked, and he was alone in the room, it didn’t matter.  He showered and dressed, and caught sight of his clothes strewn across the floor where he’d left them.  He closed his eyes and imagined Tao’s reproachful look for leaving his things lying around, and then with a guilty start, picked them up and put them in the hamper.  He even pulled the covers straight on the bed before slipping out the door and making his way back to the dorm for breakfast. 

Kyungsoo was in the kitchen, humming as he prepared the morning meal for the others.  Kris opted not to disturb him, and instead made his way directly back to the room he used to share with Tao.  He quietly slid the door open and slipped inside, careful not to let it slam or click too loudly.  If Tao was still sleeping, the last thing he wanted to do was disturb him. 

He looked at his neatly made bed and sighed before turning his attention to Tao’s bed.  Expecting to see him stretched out and sleeping peacefully, he had only a split-second’s warning when he saw Tao sitting on the edge of his bed.  Tao’s head came up; their eyes met.  And then in the time it took Kris to blink, Tao vanished from the bed and crashed into him.  Kris went down hard, Tao’s knee in his diaphragm, one arm pinned uncomfortably beneath him while Tao held the other in a vice-like grip. 

“ _You left me,_ ” Tao said, his voice a rough and cracked rasp. 

The pressure of Tao’s leg against his stomach pushed the air out of his lungs.  “Tao,” he gasped.  “Can’t – breathe!”

Tao shifted his weight so that he wasn’t leaning on Kris anymore, but he didn’t move, apparently prepared to press him again if necessary. 

“I didn’t leave,” Kris said, and wormed his arm free to rub against his stomach.  He ruefully considered the likelihood of a bruise forming there later, and could practically feel the blood pooling already.  “I just needed another room so you – so we could sleep.” 

“Why?”

“I just said,” Kris argued, indignant.  “I know you’re not sleeping any better than I was; it was the only thing I could think of.”

The pressure eased as Tao released him and lowered his head.  “I didn’t sleep,” he admitted. 

“What?”

“I couldn’t.  Gege… you  _left._ ”

Kris realised two things simultaneously; first, that Tao was understandably upset that he’d slipped away without saying anything.  And secondly that Tao apparently cared for him.  A  _lot._  

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I should have told you.  It’s not permanent.  I still live here,” he added, trying to be reassuring.  He could see Tao withdrawing into himself, however, and hated to be the cause of that retreat.  “Hey,” he said.  “Calm down.  I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere.  And cheer up.  You won’t have to deal with my nightmares anymore.”  He couldn’t keep the bitter tone from his voice and hoped Tao didn’t pick up on it. 

When Tao raised his head again, Kris could see on his face that he had something to say, was weighing the options of asking for permission versus just blurting it out.  His temper began to fray.  “Say it,” he said, and rolled them so that he was above Tao, his knees on either side of Tao’s waist, his hands on Tao’s shoulders.  He shook him gently.  “Just  _say it._   How many times am I going to have to tell you?  You do not need my permission.  You don’t need anyone’s.  You  _have_  it.  You can say  _whatever you want_  to whoever you want and whenever you want, just because you want to say it.”

Tao’s eyes slid away from his face as his expression became shuttered.  “There is nothing cheerful about being alone,” he said softly.  The words struck Kris like an arrow through the heart.  He lowered his head to Tao’s chest and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “Most people would be happy I was out of their hair.  I’m just surprised you didn’t already ask to be transferred.” 

Tao looked him in the face again.  Kris was suddenly struck by how  _beautiful_  he was.  The revelation was more than a little surprising, and took him off guard. 

“Gege,” Tao said quietly.  “You’re my – my friend.”

The urge to lean down and kiss him struck without warning.  Tao’s face was just a few centimetres away from his; it would be so easy to just lower his face and press their lips together.  He wondered if they were as soft as they looked, and if Tao would respond or push him away –

And then his brain overrode his libido and he remembered that not only was Tao abused, and likely to take such a gesture in  _entirely_  the wrong context, he’d just admitted that he considered Kris a  _friend._   There was no  _way_  Kris was going to knowingly jeopardise that newly-won status. 

Tao was continuingly, blithely unaware of the raging debate going on behind Kris’s eyes.  “I worry about you.  I’m sorry I can’t help you.  But is running away really the answer?”

He looked petite and helpless, sprawled beneath Kris and trustingly not even attempting to get away.  Kris mentally kicked himself for his thoughts, and tried to steer them in the direction Tao was taking the conversation.  “I’m not running away,” he argued.  “You’re not the cause of them.”  He knew that much, at least.  Tao was probably his favourite person in the world, because he’d been through hell and come out broken, but not shattered.  “But I’m trying to help  _you._   You can’t go on not sleeping because of me.”

Tao took a deep breath and held it for a moment.  Kris would have cut off his left arm to know what he was thinking about.  “But you can’t go on not sleeping, either,” Tao said firmly.  He immediately spoiled the effect by glancing away, as though the effort of holding Kris’s eyes and speaking to him was too much to bear.  “You’re running away from something specific,” he added.  “And you need to face it, or you’ll never recover.”  His lips twisted into an expression of self-loathing.  “I should know.”

“Oh, Tao…” Kris forcibly pushed himself off the ground, careful not to squish the younger trainee as he climbed to his feet.  He had to get away or he was going to spoil everything.  He sat on the edge of his old bed and contemplated Tao, who rose to a sitting position but otherwise remained on the floor.   _Face your fears,_  he thought.   _What am I afraid of?_

*

Tao had the unnerving feeling that Kris was too close, but since he was the one who’d initiated their proximity, he hardly felt he could ask him to back off.  He was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when the older trainee retreated to the bed, and he couldn’t even have explained to  _himself_  the reasons why. 

He knew that what Kris needed was to go back to the club, but the words jammed up in his throat when he tried to say them.  He watched instead as Kris stared blankly through him, considering it deeply.  He shuddered at the expression; it was too reminiscent of the way Kris had looked when Tao had found him in the boiling shower: empty, as though what made Kris  _Kris_  wasn’t behind his eyes anymore.  In the weeks since, Kris had mostly lost the expression again, but every so often he could see himself reflected in Kris’s eyes and knew that whatever Kris was seeing wasn’t him. 

“I have to – I  _can’t,_ ” Kris said suddenly.  Tao looked up at him and saw that his face had turned white.  Afraid he was going to pass out, Tao stood up and inched nearer to him, just in case, but Kris leaned back onto the bed instead, breathing heavily.  “There’s no way I can – it’s too much,” he said again, haltingly. 

Tao stared evenly at him, willing him to accept the truth.  Kris just shook his head. 

“I can’t,” he said, and in one fluid motion was up off the bed.  Tao turned to watch him as he fled the room, and the conclusions he couldn’t face.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

Kris had eaten dinner with them, and then retreated to his own private room to sleep.  Tao was torn between going to him and staying away; he’d been deeply hurt when Kris made a concerted effort to avoid him throughout the day.  He  _knew,_  in his brain, that it wasn’t personal.  That it wasn’t  _Tao_  that made Kris so edgy, so uncomfortable.  If it had been, they wouldn’t have gotten to the point they were at, in which Tao’s happiness had somehow come to rest on Kris.  But his heart only saw Kris turning away from him, and felt like it was breaking into pieces. 

When Kris was gone, Tao tried to watch the television with the others – some American dance movie that was absolutely fascinating, but failed to enthrall him.  After a twitchy, uncomfortable twenty minutes spent with them, he excused himself and found his shoes and jacket.  He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he had to get out of the stifling and increasingly too-small dorm.

What began as an aimless walk ended with Tao staring at the solid steel door of SiyahSarang’s.  Adrenaline flooded his veins as he was overcome with a flight-or-fight reaction that didn’t make any sense.  When the door swung open unexpectedly, he nearly kicked it. 

Ken stepped out with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.  He seemed to be as surprised to see Tao as Tao was him.  It lasted only a moment, and then he’d whipped the cigarette out of his mouth and beamed.  “Tao!  You came back!  We were worried about you guys.”

Tao blinked, unsure of how to react to the effusive welcome. 

“Is Kris with you?”

“Oh,” Tao said.  “No.” 

If anything, Ken’s smile widened.  “Excellent!  You seem to be doing much better.  Mayah’s here, she’s been asking when you’ll come back.  She still wants to talk to you.  I wouldn’t mind talking to you, either.  We’re all subs, so it’s not like you have to ask permission, right?  If Kris let you come here, that’s all the permission you need.  And Master Sarang will let me, and I’m sure Mayah has to ask Lady Siyah, but she’s nice, and I know she’ll say okay for Mayah as well.  Go ahead on in, they’ll be happy to see you.  I’m gonna finish my smoke and I’ll meet you in there by the bar, okay?” He was in constant motion as he talked, gesturing with his hands and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.  He was exhausting to talk to, and Tao hadn’t even done anything but stand there and listen to him. 

As he pulled the door open and entered, he thought about what Ken had said;  _If Kris let you come here…_

Did that mean he would be in trouble if Kris found out he’d gone to the club  _without_  explicit permission?  No, because Kris wasn’t – technically – his dom.  He  _wanted_  him to be -  _oh,_  how he wanted!  But that was a dream best left at the door.  He wanted Tao to learn how to be his own person, not a codependent sub. 

But someday, maybe…

Maybe.

Tao shoved the thoughts to the side when he entered the club proper.  He couldn’t see any familiar faces, except for Angelique behind the bar.  He debated on whether or not he should go and say hello to her, but the decision was taken out of his hands by a voice from behind him.

“There you are,” Sarang said.  Tao turned and had to fight against the instinctive urge to kneel in the face of such an overwhelming personal force.  Sarang seemed to emit an  _aura_  of dominance that Tao reacted to every single time.  He’d even seen  _Kris_  react to it, which didn’t help his state of mind at all. 

“I – I –” He couldn’t seem to get the words out.

Sarang held up a hand for silence.  “It’s alright,” he said, and looked past his shoulder.  “Is Kris with you?”

Were they  _destined_  to be intertwined, and never one without the other in these people’s eyes?  Tao shook his head, unable to find his voice.  He was simultaneously awed and cowed by Sarang, and without Kris acting as a buffer, the powerful intensity of Sarang’s full attention was staggering. 

“I suppose that’s for the best for now,” Sarang said.  “Please come in,” he added, and swung a hand out to welcome Tao into the club.  “Have you seen Ken anywhere?”

“Uh, outside,” Tao squeaked. 

Sarang’s expression darkened.  “I’ve told him he needs to quit smoking,” he growled, and stalked through the door.  Tao quaked, wondering if Ken was about to be punished for disobeying his master.  Sarang had invited him inside, but not given him any direction on where to go.  Tao made his way to Siyah’s stage, where the couches were.  He was relieved when he didn’t see Minnie anywhere, but Siyah leapt up out of her chair at the sight of him, spilling Mayah onto the ground.

“Tao!” she said, smiling.  “Welcome back!”

The thing that really got to him was how  _genuinely pleased_  they were to see him.  It reminded him of the way he felt at the dorm, when Luhan and Lay and Kyungsoo and the rest of them always made an effort to welcome and include him – whether he added anything or not.  They just seemed to enjoy his company.  He couldn’t recall if anyone had  _ever_  wanted him around for just – himself.  Even David had had a specific reason for inviting him in. 

It brought a flush of warmth to his cheeks and he found himself smiling back at her quite without intending to. 

Riding the high, he cut her off before she could speak again.  “No, Kris isn’t with me,” he said.  His breath caught as he waited for her reaction.  Would she be angry?

She laughed.  “I was just about to ask you that.  Good job, you made it here on your own.  Mayah’s been asking after you.”

Tao relaxed.  Everything was going to be fine.

*

Kris lay awake, staring at the darkened ceiling and trying to make out pictures in the swirl of the paintbrush strokes. 

He’d tried counting sheep, and then counting backwards from a hundred.  His eyes stubbornly remained open, and every time he closed them it wasn’t the nightmares he saw.

It was Tao. 

At this point, he was ready to welcome the nightmares back for the simple reason that he knew how to deal with them.  He wasn’t sure how to handle the innocent, wide-eyed expression on Tao’s face when Kris tumbled him over, or the fierce scowl he’d worn when he’d tackled Kris to keep him from leaving again.  Kris wasn’t even sure he’d been aware of his own expression – feral and intense, half-panicked and half-relieved – because if he had been, he wouldn’t have been content to just sit there.  He would have taken pains to conceal himself. 

While the back of his mind kept repeating that Tao was anything but  _innocent_  - Kris was willing to bet that his virginity was a thing long lost, and that Tao was more versed in sexual matters than a professional porn star – there was no denying that he was about as knowledgeable about social matters as a stone.  It was reconciling the two halves, bringing Tao back from that sexual edge he seemed to be riding and closer to the social cliff that Kris was trying to facilitate now. 

It felt like a betrayal of Tao’s trust to  _want_  him.  And yet, he could no more help his desire than a flame could help burning things to ashes.  And  _that_ , he decided, was an apt metaphor.  It truly felt like the unexpected passion for his room-mate would burn him alive.  It was all he could think about, and thus, lying awake at midnight, trying to rid himself of the untoward thoughts.

If he had a devil and angel on his shoulders, he felt sure it was the devil poking him in the side, telling him to get up and go back to the old dorm room, where even now Tao would be sleeping peacefully.  It had to be the devil, because if it was the angel, he was damned. 

Maybe if he just went and said goodnight to Tao, and saw him once more – saw the fragility in his expression, the hopeful trust, the too-knowledgeable innocence – maybe he’d be able to sleep then.

Before he could overthink it too much, Kris rolled out of bed, left his room and padded down the hall to the main dorm the other boys shared.  Technically it was supposed to be locked, and he was surprised when he tried the door and found it open.  The others were still crowded around the T.V. despite the lateness of the hour.  Lay acknowledged him with a wave, and a smile, and he waved back before making his way down to the room where Tao should have been.

Key words there, he realised a moment later.   _Should have been._

Wasn’t.

He tore the sheets off the bed, looked inside the closet and even underneath the bed.  There was no sign of him.  Telling himself he was making a mountain out of a molehill, Kris checked the other rooms – empty.  He burst into the living room, checked everyone again to make sure no one was sitting on him, and peered into the kitchen.

Tao was absolutely  _nowhere_  within the dorm. 

“Where’s Tao?” he called, and prided himself on the way his tone revealed none of his blossoming panic. 

The others looked around at each other and shrugged.  “I thought he was with you,” Luhan said.  “He left a while ago.”

He could be  _anywhere,_  Kris realised.  There was no point in going out to look for him.  He retreated to the bedroom, straightened the covers he’d torn apart, and sat down on Tao’s bed, just for the smell of him, and the sensation of being  _in Tao’s bed._   It was probably a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and it was obscurely comforting to know he was sitting in the place where Tao slept. 

He tried to put himself into Tao’s mind while he was sitting there.  He had a fairly good idea now of what Tao had gone through in his life, and his respect for the younger teen was through the roof, that he could have gone through something  _like that_  every day of his life and still come out… normal. 

It reminded him that Tao had suggested he needed to go back to the club to gain closure, and somehow, without Tao’s wide, guileless eyes on him, it seemed possible.  He  _knew_  that if he continued to run away from the problems, they would only continue to get worse and worse.  He  _knew_  that in order to overcome them, he would need to return, if only to prove to himself that he was still in control of himself. 

One thing was absolutely certain, however, and that was he was  _never submitting again._   He would go back and punch Sarang in his smug, masked face if he even suggested it. 

All at once, the thought blossomed in his mind like a flower.   _That was it!_   Tao had gone to the club.  Kris was absolutely positive that’s where he’d find his friend, and he rolled off the bed, suddenly full of energy.

“I’m going out,” he called, on his way out the door.  He didn’t hear if any of them answered him, and wasn’t waiting for an answer anyway.  He made it to the club in record time, and was surprised to see Sarang and Ken standing out front, arguing fiercely about something.  Kris slowed to a jog as he approached, and wished idly that Tao could see Ken arguing with Sarang like that; he thought it might do the Chinese boy some good to see a sub who wasn’t broken. 

They snapped off the argument when they saw Kris, and Sarang straightened.  Before either of them could get a word in edgewise, Kris remembered why he’d come back in the first place.

“Is Tao here?”

They exchanged a Look. Kris had a momentary flash of panic, before Ken assuaged his fear.  “He’s inside.  You didn’t know?”

“He’s not actually my sub,” Kris snapped, and then took a deep breath.  “I… need to talk to you,” he said haltingly, turning his attention to Sarang.  The dom looked at him piercingly for a long moment and then nodded. 

“I thought you probably would.  Let’s go back to my office,” he added, and held the door open for both Kris and Ken to enter ahead of him. 

Kris looked around for Tao when he entered the club proper, but didn’t immediately see him.  Sarang’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the office, kept him from wandering through the dim club to look for his errant friend. 

About halfway through, Kris paused to try and get a grip on himself.  The last time he’d been through here, it had been on his knees like an animal.  He still hadn’t gotten over it, and he shuddered.  Sarang noticed, and took him by the wrist, hurrying him along. 

“This affected you strongly.”

“Yeah,” Kris said, mustering the wherewithal to look him in the face again.  “Yeah,” he repeated, and hated his voice for shaking.  “It did.”

“I apologise,” Sarang said, and once they were within his office, he bowed low.  “I didn’t intend for it to leave such a lasting impression.”

There was nothing Kris could really say to that.  “I just want you to know, I still need your help with Tao.  And I’m never submitting again.  Ever.” He felt his skin start to crawl just thinking about it, and raked his nails down his arms in an effort to feel normal again.  Sarang seized his wrists and held them.

“I apologise,” he said again, seriously. 

“I’ll be alright,” Kris said, and shifted his gaze to the wall.  “What about Tao?”

*

Mayah took him into a private room, and surprised him with drinks.  It was just water, but she collected it herself and served it to him.  Tao, feeling out of his element with a girl waiting on him like she was a servant, sat in relative silence for a long time.

“…Tao,” she said finally.  He jumped. 

“Yes?”

She smiled.  “I just wanted to make sure you were still breathing.  I’m… not really very good at talking to people,” she added, and ducked her face behind her hair. 

“Neither am I,” Tao admitted.  It was strange to know that she was on the exact same level as he was.  He didn’t have to ask her permission for anything, and anyway, she didn’t have the authority to give it. 

“I was abused by my uncle as a child,” Mayah blurted out.  “Sexually.  It messed me up for a long time.  I don’t…trust men.”

Tao withdrew slightly, wondering how she was able to be in the same room as him if she was able to freely admit that she didn’t like men.  She waved her hands, surprised.

“No, not like you, I mean, I know you wouldn’t hurt me.  That’s why I like you,” she added shyly.  “Even Kris kind of scares me, a little.”

“Kris is an angel,” Tao said, mystified.  Mayah averted her eyes.

“He’s just so big,”

“I,” Tao said, and couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.  “I think Sarang is big and scary, actually.”

She laughed.  “Sarang is a big kitty cat,” she said.  “He only  _looks_  scary, but he’s really nice once you get to know him.”

Tao nodded.  “I can tell, actually.  He could have kicked me and Kris out the first night, but he heard my story, and decided to help us instead.”

She leaned forward.  “So what is your story?”

Startled, Tao told her.  There were tears in her eyes when he was done, and she crossed the room to hug him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, trembling.  “I think it’s an incredible thing, what Kris is doing for you.  I think he must be something really special.”

Tao felt his face light up.  “He is,” he said. 

She sniffled.  “You should try harder,” she told him.  Tao was startled into withdrawing.  “I don’t mean that what you’re doing is wrong, or that you’re wrong,” she added.  “I just mean… he’s really going all out for you.  You can’t just sit there and passively take it.  You have to step it up, really make the effort.  Lady Siyah doesn’t allow me to wallow, and you may have to train Kris to this, yourself.  But you have to meet him halfway, or he’s going to get frustrated, and he may give up.”

Frozen fear dropped into Tao’s stomach like a chunk of ice.  “I’m so scared that one day he’ll wake up and decide I’m too much effort to help,” he admitted.  Mayah scooted closer again, and took his hand in hers. 

“That’s why you have to prove that you can be better.”

“I’m getting there.”

“Now prove it.”

 

* * *

WHAT IS THIS?   **WHAT IS THIS?**   I DON'T EVEN KNOW.  HOMG.  SIX MONTHS, YOU GUYS.  IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS SINCE I UPDATED THIS LAST.  Sorry for the hugely long delay.  I had massive writer's block, and now I've forgotten where I'd been planning on taking this.  Some of you will be disappointed, but I've come to the conclusion that I can't please everyone, and I'm sorry about it.  For those of you who are excited anyway, THANK YOU~

 

And while you're waiting for seventeen (which is in progress, about 45% complete, as of the posting of this chapter) go read  **[JailBird's](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/167969)  ** amazing story, [ **Lipstick Lullabies.**](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/464704)

[ ](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/464704)


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

“I believe Tao has made progress since your last visit,” Sarang said, pouring himself a drink from a can of sprite.  He offered another to Kris, who turned it down politely.  “But you seem to have had some issues,” he noted.  Kris wrapped his arms around his chest.

“I don’t know why,” he said.

“I pushed you too far,” Sarang said, and pulled the mask off before sitting down on the edge of the desk.  There was genuine concern in his eyes, and Kris found himself relaxing.  “I wanted to show you in absolutely no uncertain terms what it really means to be a sub who has no control.”

When it was put like that, Kris found himself agreeing, although he still felt unnatural.  “So what’s next?  I… don’t think I can handle something like that again.”

“No, and I wouldn’t do it to you a second time,” Sarang said thoughtfully.  “The object was to give Tao a boost, not to tear you down to his level.” His lips twisted wryly.  “Although I can’t help but think of you both as children, and that makes this conversation exceedingly awkward.” Kris bristled.  Before he could say anything, Sarang was moving on.  “However, I believe that the next step should be training you in the art of dominance; whether or not you choose to continue that facet of things with Tao is up to you, and I will not interfere or question you.  I simply believe that now you know a fraction of what makes him the way he is, you can be a more understanding person.  You can be, if you so choose, the one who can help recondition him – now that you know.  The next step is showing you how to handle a sub.  It will be more difficult for you; you will have to demonstrate patience and understanding beyond your natural limits, because there will be times when he will test you.”

Kris snorted.  “He already tests me,” he muttered.  “Sometimes I think he’s all better, and then he turns around and becomes a statue.”

“You are looking at something of an uphill battle.  Decide here and now if it’s worth it to you.  Or, if you need time, come back later.”

“I definitely need time,” Kris said, and then backpedaled.  “It’s not that I don’t want to, or don’t think he’s worth it,” he said hurriedly.  “I just… maybe it would be better for him to find a psychologist, someone who’s trained to help people through these types of issues.”

Sarang leaned back and studied Kris.  “Do you think it would do him any good?  Would he open up to a psychologist?  Would he be able to tell a stranger all of his dark secrets?  Would he be  _able_  to speak to them at all?”

Kris blinked.  He hadn’t considered that when he’d thought of the solution of finding a professional.

“If you choose to continue helping him, you can help build him up to the point where a psychologist will do him the most good.  I have a feeling that if you were to simply drop him off on a doctor’s doorstep tomorrow, however, that he would more than likely retreat into himself and nothing would be accomplished.”

Kris deflated.  “You’re right,” he said, feeling the hopeless enormity of the task he’d taken on settle across his shoulders.

“Take heart,” Sarang said.  “Mayah was worse off than Tao when she came to us, and with the help of Lady Siyah, is almost to the point where she can function in normal society again.”

Kris felt his heart hit his feet.  “And how long did it take?”

“Just over a year, but she is not always in the club.  You have the advantage of living with Tao full time, and thus can be reinforcing your lessons at all times.”

They rose in unison, and Kris bowed awkwardly.  “Thank you for your help,” he said, stiff.  Sarang walked him back into the club proper, and returned the bow.

“Come back and see me when we’ve both got more time,” Sarang advised him.  “I’ll make sure Tao returns to you safely.”

Miss Minnie intercepted them before they reached the front door.  “Kris, may I speak to you for a moment?”

Kris halted, and eyed her suspiciously.  A quick glance at Sarang revealed that he was glaring at her as well. 

“I’d just like to talk to you alone, is that a  _crime?_ ”

“It depends on what you have to say,” Sarang said, before Kris could even draw in a breath to speak. 

“It’s for Kris and Kris alone,” she snapped, holding her nose in the air.  Kris looked around, but still didn’t see Tao.  Curiousity was beginning to bloom in his chest, and he decided to take the plunge and find out what she wanted.

“I’ve got time,” he said, and ignored Sarang’s sigh.  Minnie pulled him over into an unused corner beside an empty stage. 

“Do you know this man?” she asked, brandishing a picture.  It was an incredibly ugly middle-aged man, who was slightly rotund and whose hairline was visibly receding.

“Uh, no,” Kris said.  “Is that what you wanted to ask?”

She rooted around in her purse, and withdrew another picture.  “Not only.  How about this person?”

Kris took the picture and studied it.  It looked like it had been taken in the club, or  _a_ club, or something.  It was definitely a person strapped to some kind of device, and just visible in the background was the same balding man from the first picture she’d shown him. 

In fact, the more he looked at it, the more it seemed to look like…

“Is this …  _Tao?_ ”

She snatched the picture back with a sly smile on her face.  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Kris gathered himself up and got in her face.  “I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but leave Tao out of it,” he threatened.  She got right back into his, pushing him back.

“I’m playing  _nothing._   Just … doing a little detective work.” She smiled unpleasantly.  “I have a theory I’d like to test.  Ask Tao about Martin some time.  Or he might remember him better by the name  _Marto.”_

Kris shoved her out of his space, and stomped out of the club.  Ken met him by the door.

“I wish we could keep her out, but she’s technically broken no rules.  Being a bitch isn’t grounds to be kicked out,” he lamented. 

“I really can’t stand her,” Kris confided, seething with a directionless rage. 

“No one can,” Ken laughed. 

 

The photograph she’d shown him weighed on his mind that night, and for once he was almost grateful to be thinking about something besides the nightmares.  He tossed and turned until nearly midnight before he couldn’t stand it anymore and threw the covers off his bed and rolled until his feet hit the floor.  Before he could overthink it, he returned to the shared dorm and unlocked it before slipping inside.  He found the room Tao was using – alone, now that Kris had temporarily abandoned him – and pushed the door open.  Tao came awake instantly, visible in the scattered light from the street lights pouring in through the windows, saw Kris, and relaxed. 

“Tao, I’m – I need to ask you something,” Kris said, awkwardly.  Tao pulled himself to a seated position and looked at him, trustingly.  “What do you know about a man named Martin, or – or Marto?”

Even in the dim lighting, Kris saw that the name had an immediate effect on the younger trainee.  His throat worked for a few seconds as he swallowed and his lips moved soundlessly. 

“What?”

“Forget it,” Kris said, suddenly realising that Minnie had set him up to do something horrible to Tao somehow.  “Forget it, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything –” he turned to leave the room again, when suddenly Tao crashed into him from behind, wrapping his arms around Kris’s chest and holding him. 

“Don’t go,” Tao pleaded.  “Tell me where you heard that name…”

He couldn’t deny the agonised tone in Tao’s voice.  “Minnie showed me a picture of you, and told me to ask,” he said, suddenly hyper-aware that his heart was pounding beneath the flat of Tao’s palms and that the younger trainee was surely able to feel it.  He hated his attraction to Tao – it made no sense, and Tao deserved more than a fumbling crush.  But the feeling of Tao’s lithe, muscular body pressed against his from chest to thighs was almost more than he could stand. 

At the same time, he didn’t dare pull away, fearing an adverse reaction if Tao thought Kris didn’t want to be touched by him.  And he had no way of explaining that it wasn’t that he  _didn’t_  want to be touched, but that he  _did_  – too much.  He didn’t think Tao would understand, and he couldn’t bear the thought of a misunderstanding between them. 

“Gege,” Tao whispered, his breath hot between Kris’s shoulder-blades.  He suddenly realised that he only had on a thin cotton shirt and an equally-thin pair of pyjama pants, and that Tao was wearing no more than he was.  “Don’t listen to her,” he begged.  “I don’t like her.  And Marto…” He shuddered, and Kris felt it all along the length of his body.  “Marto was bad.”

He couldn’t help himself, any more than the sun could help rising.  Kris turned without stepping back, moving within the circle of Tao’s arms, and returned the hug face to face, burying his nose in Tao’s hair just to smell his shampoo.  “I don’t like her either,” he said.  “I won’t.  And I won’t let Marto hurt you anymore.”

Tao pushed his face into Kris’s chest, and breathed deeply, the tremors subsiding.  Without noticing how it began, Kris found himself stroking Tao’s back, feeling the ridges of his spine and the rise and fall of his muscles as he breathed.  “Come to bed with me,” Tao asked gently.  It didn’t even occur to Kris to object when Tao tugged him towards the bed, and in fact, it wasn’t until they were nestled together in the narrow mattress that he even realised where he was.

“Tao,” he whispered, but Tao – already asleep – just murmured and rolled to capture him with one arm.

 

*

 

The muffled squeak woke him up, and it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and looked around that he remembered where he was.  Tao was still clinging to him, but this time his eyes were wide open, and his expression was fearful. 

“Good morning,” Kris said, his voice a sleepy rumble.  It sounded, to his own ears, sexy.  The flush that spread across Tao’s cheeks told him that he wasn’t alone in his opinion. 

“Goodmorning!” Tao said, all in a rushed breath. 

“How did you sleep?”

“Fine!” Tao was still barely moving his lips to talk, and he hadn’t blinked. 

“Are you okay?”

This time the response was a silent nod, but Tao finally broke eye contact and eased his arm from around Kris’s waist.  His skin was cold where Tao’s body heat withdrew, and he admitted to himself that it hadn’t been all that unpleasant. Added to the sight of Tao’s hair ruffled and fluffy on one side where he’d slept on it and flat and normal on the other, and Kris was forced to reevaluate a lot of his choices. 

 _The first thing I’ll do is move back in,_  he decided.   _And then I’ll go back to Sarang and see what he can teach me about being a dom._

Tao was visibly trembling as he stood up and stretched, and Kris could see him sneaking glances out of the corner of his eyes. 

“You’re not in trouble,” Kris said, stretching without bothering to get out of bed.  He could see Tao relax, and reaffirmed his new-found conviction that he needed to learn what he was doing, especially if Tao was going to respond to him like a master anyway.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

 

Kris eyed the powerful master with no little trepidation. 

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Sarang noted.  “Don’t  _worry._   You’re here to learn the best way to handle Tao.”  He stretched out a hand and stroked Kris’s hair lightly.  In spite of himself, the motion felt good, and Kris found himself relaxing involuntarily. 

“So what should I do?”

“At his heart, Tao is what we call a slave,” Sarang said, thoughtfully.  “It means he desires to serve at all times.  He identifies as a servant of a master, and will be happiest if he is given a chance to serve.”

Kris thought about all the things Tao did for him – the episode of getting the drinks for Yixing stood out in his mind – and how, like a puppy, all he wanted was to make Kris happy.  “That… makes an odd sort of sense,” Kris allowed.

Sarang smiled slowly.  “So, the simplest solution in the short term is let him serve you.”

Kris flinched back in horror.  “Are you telling me –”

“I’m telling you, let him serve you.  Not  _service._   Not unless it’s something you want, but as I’ve said, that’s between the two of you,” he added.  “Let him bring you things.  Praise him.  Punish him if you feel he’s acted outside of what your terms of service are.”

Kris blinked.  “And that’s it?”

“Do you want to learn how to dominate someone?”

“Yes.”

“Then no, that’s not it.  The first thing you must understand is that the sub is in control – even when they’re not.”

Kris sighed, despairing of ever understanding this lifestyle.

Sarang talked for several hours, sometimes dipping into personal anecdotes before swinging the conversation back around to  _Dealing With Tao._  Kris’s head was swimming with it by the time he was done, but he had a very good idea of what would work best.  First and foremost was patience.  He realised in hindsight that he was constantly losing patience with Tao, and that was causing a rift whether he meant it or not.  He would have to grow up really fast, really soon.  He was more determined than ever to become someone Tao could rely on, however, and he saw it as a sort of holy mission, rather than an inconvenience. 

“When you return, I will begin teaching you anatomy,” Sarang warned, and showed him to the door.  Kris stood outside, listened to the thunder rumble overhead, and wondered what anatomy had to do with anything.

 

*

 

Tao looked up when Kris entered the room, and then immediately dropped his eyes.  Something about Kris had changed – he wasn’t hunched over anymore, trying to disguise his height.  His shoulders were back, and his eyes were clear.  He  _radiated_ power, and Tao found himself involuntarily aroused by it.  He couldn’t bring himself to say anything though.

“Good evening, Tao,” Kris said, and Tao felt his  _want_  ratchet up just at the sound of his voice.  He wanted Kris so bad it was becoming painful. 

“Good evening,” he replied, a little uncertainly.  Kris tossed a notebook and a pen at him.  Tao looked at it and blinked.   “…Um?”

“I want you to start keeping a journal,” Kris said, and when Tao looked up found Kris looking at him steadily.  Their eyes met, and Tao couldn’t look away.  It was like an electric current had galvanized him, rooting him to the spot.  “Record your thoughts, your dreams, what you ate.  Whatever passes through your mind.  Write in it every day,” he added.  Tao took up the notebook gingerly, wondering if it would shock him.  It was a harmless stack of lined paper bound between two pieces of cardboard. 

“Yes, gege,” Tao said, and a flush of pleasure filled him when Kris smiled.  He was painfully hard inside the loose cotton pyjama pants, and he’d never been so grateful that they could conceal so much. 

“One more thing,” Kris said, and Tao was so acutely aware of him that he not only sensed but could  _see_  the moment Kris’s mask of authority slipped.  It was a reminder that Kris wasn’t perfect, but instead of losing confidence, Tao soared on the wings of the knowledge.  “I need you to answer me, and I need you to be honest.  Can you?”

“Yes, gege,” Tao breathed. 

Kris looked him dead in the eyes, sitting on the edge of Tao’s bed to bring him closer to Tao’s level.  “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Tao’s mind whited out at the prospect.  Bonelessly, he slipped down until he was half-propped up against the wall, and his entire body throbbed.  “ _Yes…_ gege,” he breathed.

Kris’s eyes flickered down his body, leaving a physical sensation in their wake.  Then he grinned, and the mantle of power fell away entirely as the seventeen-year-old he actually  _was_  rose to the fore.  “Now?”  Uncertainty tinged his voice.  Tao couldn’t make a sound, and for the first time it wasn’t terror sealing his throat, but the fact that his breath was coming so fast and hard at the  _idea_  that he couldn’t find enough to push the words from his lips.  He nodded instead.  Kris leaned closer, and Tao seized his lower lip in his teeth, straining to keep a needy whimper from escaping.  When Kris’s hands came down on his knees, the noise burst from him in a ragged moan that hitched into a gasp as Kris’s hands traveled up the insides of his thighs, pushing his legs apart.  Kris leaned down and nuzzled his nose into the  _V_  of Tao’s legs, inhaling deeply before cupping his erection through the cotton sleep-pants. Tao stuffed his fist into his mouth to muffle himself, and a voice in the back of his mind screamed that he hadn’t been given permission to make noise anyway, and the rest of him rose up and screamed back that he hadn’t been ordered to keep silent and he could moan if he wanted. 

When another half-gasped sound rushed out of him, his cheeks flushed, but it drew an answering noise from Kris and that was more exciting than anything Kris was doing to him.  The epiphany struck with the force of a speeding eighteen-wheeler: Kris was  _turned on by him!_

“Gege,” he said.  “Please!”

Kris carefully reached up and hooked four fingers into the elastic waistband of his pyjamas, tugging them down over his hips and freeing his erection.  Kris looked at it for a moment, studying it, but before Tao could feel like he was being judged, Kris had leaned forward and taken it into his mouth, tasting the drops of pre-come at the head with the tip of his tongue.  It had been so long that Tao nearly burst apart at the tentative touch.   Kris took him deeper, choked slightly, and withdrew before dipping down again, applying a tentative suction as his head moved that threatened to destroy him. 

Kris’s hands came up, stroking the crease of his thighs and the sensitive skin of his perineum, trailing a pattern over his balls.  Tao whimpered with the force of the pleasure assaulting him from every angle –  _Kris was touching him, Kris was **sucking him off!**_  – and tried to keep his hips from bucking up into the wet heat of Kris’s tender mouth. 

Kris pulled back for a moment and swallowed, working his jaw.  “You don’t need permission to come,” he said, his voice sex-rough and scratchy.  “Unless I tell you not to,” he added.  Desire surged through him, lighting up new trails throughout his body.  Kris returned to the inexpert blowjob, and even as clumsy and unfamiliar as it was, left Tao a writhing, incoherent mess by the time he exploded down Kris’s throat.  The afterglow left him limp and wrung out like a rag, breathing hard as he lay motionless.  Kris covered him back up, and for a moment Tao almost roused enough to stop him.  Then Kris crawled up to lay beside him, gathering Tao into his arms.  When their bodies touched, Tao realised Kris was still unfulfilled, his dick like an iron rod against the back of Tao’s thigh.  Tao turned in his embrace and snaked an arm between them. 

“Gege,” he said, and Kris opened his eyes to look at him.  A soft, dreamy smile curved his lips.  “Can I…?” Tao asked, and then, unable to finish the statement, curled his fingers around Kris’s erection through his jeans.  The older trainee’s hips jerked involuntarily, and he gasped, nodding. 

“Yes,  _please_.”

Tao chuckled to himself and made short work of him.  

 

*

 

Kris walked around in a blissful haze for two days until he got the call from Sarang instructing him to return to the club for his anatomy lesson.  With no little trepidation, Kris made excuses after their vocal lessons and slipped out.  He hadn’t repeated the experience with Tao, but he’d also been riding the high, and could see in Tao’s face and mannerisms that it had loosened something in the younger teen as well.  He was almost back to the hyperactive self of the day they’d eaten pancakes for breakfast. 

Thoughts of Tao carried him on a cloud all the way through the front door of SiyahSarang’s, and it wasn’t until he nearly walked into the bitter Miss Minnie that he was jarred out of it.  Abruptly yanked back to reality, Kris eyed her warily.

“I’ve been doing a little digging,” she purred.  It was a hateful sound, and Kris’s skin crawled as it washed over him.  Faster than he could track, she snatched him up by the hair and forced him to his knees.  “And I don’t like looking up to lesser people!” she added, vitriol in her voice.  Kris went down because it was easier than losing a handful of hair to her iron grip.  She shook him, rattling his teeth, and he tasted blood where he bit his tongue by accident.  “I know who your little Zitao is now, Zi and Tao and Hu-Zi.  Tell him for me, would you?  He ruined my marriage and my life, and I’m not going to let him off easy.”

Kris swallowed and glared at her.  “I’m not telling him shit.” 

She seized something long and dark from a belt around her waist and raised her arm.  Kris flinched but before the blow fell, she’d released him.  When he looked up he saw Sarang there, an expression of pure fury on his face.

“Get out of my club,” he snarled, deep and low in his throat.  Minnie turned white, and staggered back a few paces.  “And if you ever show your face in here again, I will have you arrested.”

“You couldn’t,” she said, getting some of her bravado back. 

“Assault, assault of a minor, harassment of a minor, stalking –”

Her face became grey.  “Fuck you,” she said, and turned on the balls of her feet before launching herself out the door like a rocket. 

Sarang helped Kris to his feet.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I’m considering having a restraining order taken out against her.  Are you alright?”

Kris nodded, rubbing his head where she’d pulled his hair.  “She’s something else,” he said, wondering why she’d targeted him. 

“She’s an evil bitch,” Sarang muttered.  “Anyway, I believe you and I have a lesson plan to cover.”

The lesson was performed on a sub – Ken, Kris realised after a few minutes – who was stripped naked and stretched out on a bed.  He twitched and shivered whenever Sarang touched him, and from the tiny movements of his hips, Kris guessed he was aroused by the lesson.  It was oddly disconcerting.  Sarang or someone had drawn lines on his body demarcating the lines of muscles and bones, and Sarang explained in medical detail the best way to lay a whip or a cane in order to maximize sensation while doing the least amount of permanent harm.  He explained erogenous zones as well, and the various ways the human body could be tied for any length of time and which positions would eventually cause harm. 

Kris absorbed everything like a sponge, and recited the lessons back to Sarang when he was done. 

“Very good,” Sarang said, after correcting his mistakes.  “I suggest finding a book or two on the subject to keep your memory fresh,” he said.  “Now, I believe Ken is in need of punishment,” he continued, and ignored his sub when Ken squawked “ _What?”_

Kris echoed him a moment later.  “What?  Why?”

“At this point he’s far better trained than that and was unable to keep himself still during the lesson,” Sarang said.  Kris took note of the way dominance slipped over him like the mask he’d stopped wearing as he turned from teacher into master.  To his surprise, Ken didn’t look scared – if he was reading the expression right, he would have said Ken was  _aroused_  at the prospect.  “So why don’t you do the honours?”  He selected a long rod from the toybox and handed it to Kris, who held it like it was a snake that might turn around and bite him.  Ken wiggled again.

“I love newbies,” he groaned, and shifted subtly so that his ass was ever-so-slightly in the air. 

Sarang leaned close.  “Get him with about half your strength, and aim for the crease between the top of his thighs and the bulge of his ass,” he whispered, low enough that Ken couldn’t hear the exchange.  “Don’t be afraid to hit his ass, or his thighs, but make sure you don’t strike his back.”

“Right,” Kris said.  He had no real desire to  _hit_  the other man, and when he pictured Tao in his place it became downright terrifying.  They were both waiting on him, however, and he was no coward. He hefted the rod a few times to get a feel for the weight, and swung, a little gentler than he meant to.  Ken jumped and moaned. 

“Ordinarily you would have to build up slowly to get this kind of reaction, but he’s already excited, and so the pain is less intense and more pleasurable,” Sarang explained in an undertone.  “Build up gradually and try not to hit the same place twice in a row – this is still punishment.  I want you to take it just past the point of pain.  If you don’t see it, I’ll stop you.  Continue.”

He did.  By paying attention to the expressions on Ken’s face, the noises he emitted, and the colour of his slowly-reddening skin, Kris was able to judge the moment when the pleasure spilled over into outright pain and struck twice more before stopping.  Sarang smiled, took the rod, and gave Ken one final swat that echoed, it was so hard.  Ken screeched  _“Oww!”_  and when he looked back there were tears in his eyes but he looked peaceful and content.  Sarang sat down on the bed and beckoned to him, nestling Ken into his lap and cuddling with him. 

“You can go, Kris,” he said, and then added, “The next lesson is safety.  Don’t forget.”  Kris turned and left them there, wondering what Tao was doing.  He’d found the punishment more exciting than he thought he would, and he wondered if Tao would be willing to help him out.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Tao paced back and forth, curious as to when Kris would be coming home and how he should greet him.  Earlier in the day, he’d knelt to meditate, and come across a startling revelation.  Kris was treating him as a _friend,_ but also a _lover._   What Tao wanted, though, was so far removed from either of those things that he couldn’t even begin to describe it, even to himself. How was he supposed to reconcile this when he wasn’t able to describe what he was lacking?

So he walked in circles around the dorm room, strung tighter than a coiled spring. He had remembered to write all of his thoughts down in the journal Kris had acquired for him, and wondered if he was doing the right thing.  Kris had never asked for this kind of responsibility, had never known someone like Tao existed until he fell into his life and disrupted everything.  The on-going fear that Kris was one day going to find it all too much of a hassle ate at him until he had no more room inside for anything else. 

When the door opened abruptly, Tao knelt in startled reflex, glancing up once, quickly, to take in Kris’s mood.  He was slightly flushed and breathing hard – but the expression deep in his eyes wasn’t terror. Tao felt warm all over.

“Tao, you can stand up,” Kris said, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. Tao climbed gracefully to his feet, wondering what was coming next.  Part of him thrilled at it, and another part, equally strong, was terrified that he’d done something wrong again.  He was beginning to think that that fear would always be there inside him, lurking. Kris bit his lip nervously, and suddenly Tao knew what he wanted.  He couldn’t bring himself to start it, though. 

“Come here,” Kris whispered, voice husky.  Tao went to him, finally given permission to do the things he wanted.  He wrapped his arms around Kris’s neck, kissing him.  He loved kissing Kris, and never suspected that such a simple act could be so wonderful.  Kris’s hands came up behind him, settling against his ass and bringing their hips together.  Tao gasped to realise how turned on Kris was, and felt jealousy rise up in a crimson wave as he wondered what had happened during the ‘lesson.’

Kris, reading his mind, separated their mouths enough that he could talk.  “I learned about anatomy,” he said.  Tao looked dubious, and then Kris smiled wickedly.  “And punishment.”

Abject terror and hot lust raced through Tao in equal parts.  In his mind, he knew that punishment from Kris would be something else, something different from what he’d become accustomed to, but his body remembered all the times the crueler masters had whipped him and left him hanging just because they were in a bad mood.

 _No,_ he told himself fiercely.  _Kris isn’t like that! Sarang isn’t like that either._

He couldn’t quite bring himself to look Kris in the eyes, but the knowledge that Kris wouldn’t hurt him just for the sake of hurting him gave him the courage to suck in a deep breath and ask, “Like what?”

“Tao, I…” Kris swallowed convulsively. Tao, who couldn’t get his eyes past Kris’s jawline, watched every ripple in his skin like it was the most fascinating thing on the planet.  “Sarang and I were talking about the best way to handle this,” Kris started again.  Tao backed off a few steps to give him the space to talk.  _Kris won’t hurt me,_ he repeated in his mind.  _Not unless I deserve it._   Another part of his mind spoke up in retaliation.  _You’ve always deserved it because you’re bad!_  

Tao swallowed.  _But Kris didn’t think I’m bad,_ he told himself.  The war raged on silently as Kris cleared his throat.

“You…” Tao flicked a glance up at his face, taking in his nervous, half-hopeful half-fearful expression.  “You like to serve, yes?”

Tao almost smiled.  It was all he wanted in the world.  “Yes,” he said.

“Well, if you – serve – me –” Kris stumbled over the words, endearing himself to Tao even more.  _Kris, I would do anything for you._   “We need rules. Boundaries.”  He cleared his throat again, and then crossed the room to sit on the bed.  Tao saw the way he tried to hide the shaking in his hands, and immediately grasped what was needful.  Without a word, he went into the bathroom and collected a glass of water.  Kris glanced at it, surprised, and then a grateful smile spread across his face.

“Thank you,” he said.  The smile faded as he considered the water.  “Do you feel like this is demeaning to you?”

“What?”

“You’re not my servant,” Kris snapped, and then sucked in a deep breath.  “I mean, you’re not my _slave,_ ” he said, calmer.  “You’re your own person.  But Sarang said you might be happier, uh… serving.”

Once again, Tao grasped the nature of Kris’s uncertainty.  He wanted an honest answer, but Tao wasn’t sure if he should say anything.  Almost as if he’d read his thoughts, Kris nodded.

“You can talk to me,” he said.

“I am happy to serve,” Tao said instantly, relieved that Kris had seen his need for permission.  He elabourated, trying to put into words what he was feeling.  “It makes me... happy, to make you happy.  To take care of you.”  He paused for a long moment.  “Because –” Now Tao’s hands were shaking.  “Because you’ll take care of me, too.”

He risked another look at Kris’s face – so expressive, so perfect – and saw an understanding smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Okay,” Kris said. “I think I can do this.”

 

*

 

Knowing that Tao was okay with serving made Kris feel easier.  He didn’t want to push Tao into something he wasn’t comfortable with, but he did want to help him.  This was just the framework. 

“So, boundaries.” Kris said, and almost smiled to see Tao’s eyebrows lift.  “I expect you to keep the dorm room clean, and write in your journal every day,” he added.  Sarang had given him suggestions for simple chores and other things Tao could do for him that wouldn’t be too much for him to handle.  It was supposed to be a stepping stone.  If Tao could act on his own steam to clean the room because he had a standing order to do so, it would be a small step from there to convincing him he was allowed to do other things, so long as the other standing orders were still obeyed.  Tao was nodding, looking thrilled.  Kris, who hated cleaning and felt guilty for shucking the duties onto Tao, didn’t quite believe that it was that simple to make him happy.  “Do not forget your Korean lessons,” Kris added.  “You’ll have to work hard in training, too.”

Tao nodded quickly.  “I understand, Gege.”

Kris wanted to give him something else to do, but couldn’t think of anything.  His eyes fell on the laundry basket.  He warred with himself, and then just blurted it out.  “Laundry is also your duty.  If you forget, you’ll be punished.”

Tao’s lips parted, but Kris couldn’t tell from the angle whether he was excited or scared.  “Yes, Gege.”

Speaking of punishment reminded Kris of wielding the rod against Ken’s skin, and he wondered if Tao would enjoy it like Ken had, or if it would stir up bad memories.  It also stirred up his arousal.  He leaned back into the bed and motioned for Tao to lay on him.  Stroking his back like a cat while their hips lined up, Kris arched his back until they were rubbing against each other.  Tao was almost purring, and Kris could feel him getting hard.  It was even more arousing to know that it was Kris who was affecting him like that.  “Your punishments won’t be severe,” Kris said. “If it’s a simple mistake, you’ll have a simple penance.”

“Yes… Gege,” Tao breathed. 

He couldn’t imagine Tao doing something wrong enough to warrant taking him to the club and using one of Sarang’s rods on him, but as he brought his hands up to cup Tao’s ass, he couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like.  He felt the slight indentation between the thigh and butt that Sarang had instructed him to aim for when administering punishment, and used his grip to force Tao down against him even harder.  It drew gasps from them both, and then Tao was moving on his own, grinding down hard against Kris to increase the friction between them. 

“Undo my pants,” Kris ordered, watching with heated amusement when Tao hurried to obey.  Kris took his time about opening Tao’s jeans and taking him out through the gap, stroking him.  Tao’s fists clenched in the fabric of Kris’s shirt.  “Touch me,” Kris commanded.  Tao whined low in his throat as the order was combined with a particularly vicious stroke of his hand, and he let his thumb drift over the slit at the head of Tao’s cock, already leaking pre-come.  Tao’s breath hitched but he struggled to unclench his hands and get them on Kris.  “Tao,” Kris warned.  Tao moaned brokenly and suddenly had both hands on Kris’s erection, almost tickling him with the pads of his fingers.  Coherent thought fled then as pleasure mounted.  It was so much fun to do this with Tao, and in the back of his mind he realised it was _because_ it was Tao that it was more.  That it was better. 

When they both reached orgasm almost simultaneously, Tao moaned Kris’s name, and Kris realised in that moment that he would do anything for the younger man.  He would move heaven and earth to make him happy, and he would stop at _nothing_ to hear Tao call him “Kris” again in that husky tone of voice – especially because he couldn’t get Tao to call him by name under any other circumstances.  He was vaguely aware that Tao probably didn’t even realise that he’d done it, because if he did, he probably wouldn’t be curling up like a contented cat, one arm and leg thrown over Kris in a possessive, protective position like that.  As Tao’s breathing evened out in sleep, Kris stroked his hair and felt a protective possessiveness creep over him, as well. 

He enjoyed the feeling of Tao responding to him like that.  He could learn to be comfortable giving orders and possibly punishment.  He looked forward to the day Tao would look him fearlessly in the eyes and call him “Kris.”

 

*

 

“Safety,” Sarang said.  Ken was the subject again, and he was strung up against a metal frame with different restraints on each limb.  “These are all valid restraints,” he said, gesturing.  “Rope, in a knot.  A Velcro strap.  Handcuffs. A silk scarf.  Now, imagine that something goes wrong.  He’s choking, or passes out, or a fire breaks out somewhere.  What would be the easiest thing to get him out of in an emergency?”

Kris surveyed the restraints, bewildered. 

“Give it a try,” Sarang said.  “You have five seconds per restraint.”    

Kris selected the handcuffs first, but couldn’t even find the key before the time was up, much less get them unfastened.  The scarf only knotted tighter when he tried to untie it, and his fingers fumbled clumsily at the rope.  The Velcro strap came undone instantly, freeing Ken’s hand and earning Kris a thumbs up from the cheerful sub.

“This is why all of our restraints are Velcro,” Sarang said.  “In your personal games, you can use whatever you’d like, but here at the club it’s Velcro or nothing.”

Kris nodded, absorbing the lesson.  They moved on to the other devices Sarang had scattered around the room. 

“Keep an eye on your sub,” Sarang warned.  “A very close eye.  Both of them whenever possible.  In the first place,” he demonstrated on Ken, yanking the younger man’s arms up behind him until he winced.  “Human bodies are not meant to bend in certain ways.  This is a form of punishment or restraint called ‘strappado’ but do not let the sub remain in this position for too long.  If they complain of their limbs going numb, release them and give the blood time to recirculate or else permanent damage could be done to the limbs.”  He went through other poses that could cause injury, and Kris was amazed that people would do these sorts of things at all. 

“Subspace,” Sarang said.  “It’s a psychological state of mind where the sub is disconnected from his or her body.  Pain and pleasure are both amplified and become meaningless, and if the sub enters this state of mind, they will not be able to accurately judge when something has gone too far.  You must learn to recognise the signs of subspace, and adjust for it.”

Kris nodded, wide-eyed.  He had no idea this much preparation went into a scene.  Sarang in particular made sure everything he used was clean, and provided brand new things for the more intimate uses.  His clientele was screened carefully, and tested regularly for diseases, and Kris realised that he literally couldn’t have found a better club to bring Tao to.  Sarang covered proper care of the equipment, including keeping the whips oiled and blades sharp, and then moved onto the physical safety of the sub.

“No matter what you’re using, if it goes into the body, you need to make sure it’s lubricated fully.  It’s better to use too much and clean up later than not enough and risk tearing.” 

Kris absorbed the lessons in silence, and then meditated on everything he’d learned, trying to imagine applying it to Tao.  The thought of seeing Tao tied to a sawhorse or St. Andrew’s cross suddenly made his breath come harder, but Kris resolutely decided that any of _that_ – considering what Tao had already been through – would only happen if Tao himself brought it up.  As for the lifestyle aspect…

“Ken, may I speak to you?”

Ken mutely looked at Sarang, who studied Kris for a long moment.  “You may speak,” Sarang said, and left them alone in the room. 

“I don’t want to be rude,” Kris began.  Ken laughed. 

“You’re new,” he said.  “You’ll never learn if you don’t ask things.  Why me, though?”

“Because you’re a sub.  Do you live like a sub all the time?”

Ken’s smile softened.  “I do,” he said.  “I’m not like Tao and Mayah, who need the structure to function.  I just prefer to submit to my Master at all times.  I live to serve him.”

Kris was boggled.  “You don’t… mind?”

Laughing, Ken shook his head.  “It’s a joy to serve.  When I make him happy, it feels like every sun in the universe just rose at once.  And when I do something that disappoints or angers him, I know that I can make it up to him by allowing him to punish me.”  Ken fell into a pensive silence for a few moments.  “I’ve seen your face when Sarang tries to explain subbing to you,” he said finally.  “He’s a Master, and the only subbing he ever did in his life was when he was training to be a Master.  He was probably about your age, though.”

“What?”

“He’s been in this lifestyle for about ten years.  It’s why he’s so good.  Anyway, I wanted to say this to you specifically, that’s why he let us talk.  The urge to serve, it’s not degrading if the Master appreciates it.  Because this is a power _exchange._ ”

Kris shook his head, completely befuddled.  “He’s said that before,” he said, sighing, and raked a hand through his hair.  “It doesn’t make any more sense coming from you.”

“Okay, I’ll try again.  A normal relationship is what we call _power-neutral._   Okay?  Both parties are equal, neither is in charge of the other.  But in a _power-exchange,_ you take care of Tao.  In return, Tao takes care of you.  It’s that simple.  All the rest – restraints and control and toys, that’s all just icing.  The cake underneath the sweetness, the part that holds the rest of it up, is a mutual exchange of caring.  Especially in this.  Rely on Tao.  He’s reliable, and he’ll be happier.”

“He’s already happier,” Kris muttered.  Ken ruffled his hair. 

“You’re doing good.  If I wasn’t Claimed by Sarang, I might want you for myself.” He leaned forward and kissed Kris full on the lips.  Startled, Kris let him, and didn’t withdraw until Ken had slipped his tongue past Kris’s lips.  He winked, and stood up to leave.  Kris stared at the wall and thought about everything he’d learned.  About how it would apply to Tao.  About how it already affected Tao.

A sudden epiphany rang through his startled mind. 

A power _exchange._   He wasn’t being given complete control of Tao’s life – Tao also had control of him, whether he knew it or not.  He grinned to himself at finally figuring out how this would work, and went back to the dorm. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

“Debut.”

The word rocketed through Tao like a missile, and he groped for Kris’s hand to ground himself, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

“Called _Exo_ ,” the manager continued.  “The twelve of you will perform as aliens from the Exo planet, outside our solar system.”

They were formally introduced to one another, and called aside by sixes.  The two other Chinese trainees, Luhan and Yixing were standing beside Tao and Kris, as well as Jongdae and Minseok.  One of the managers approached them.  “You’ll be Exo-M,” he said.  “A sub-group from Exo as a whole who performs and promotes in China.”  He looked Jongdae and Minseok up and down.  “You’ll have to start lessons in Mandarin,” he added.  “Now, choose a power.”  He held out six flash cards, complete with little images to go with them.  Tao glanced at Kris, who nodded at him, before reaching up to pick the one that appealed to him most – time control.  The others selected theirs, and the manager explained what their theme would be in more detail, with Luhan quietly translating to Mandarin for the others’ benefit. 

“You’re going to be spending a lot of time with one another, so you’d better get used to each other quickly.  Please get along well.”

Since they knew each other fairly well already, Tao was confident that they’d all have a good time. 

Their training stepped up a notch.  Baekhyun and Jongdae, who’d come to training later than even Tao, worked harder than anyone, but they all worked hard.  Kris didn’t let him slack off.  The one morning he overslept, he stumbled into the practice room and was greeted by Kris drawing himself up to his full height, arms crossed over his chest, and Tao knew that he was going to pay for it later.   He couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day, caught between terror and desire, wondering what Kris would do to him.  After a late dinner, they retreated to their rooms in the dorm, and Tao hovered just outside, afraid to go in, but even more afraid to avoid Kris.

Finally, he seized his courage with both hands.  This was _Kris,_ after all.  The older teen was lounging on his bed, reading when Tao pushed the door open and entered the room. 

“Welcome back,” Kris said neutrally.  Tao bobbed his head in silence.  “For being late today, you have to kneel in the corner for one hour,” Kris continued.  Tao blinked at him, unsure if he’d heard right.  Kris looked uncertain for a moment, and then visibly drew himself together.  “One hour, Tao,” he repeated more firmly. 

Hiding a smile by turning his head, Tao knelt in the corner, placing his hands behind his neck and closing his eyes.  The only sounds in the room were Kris’s soft breathing, and the rasp of paper as he turned pages in the book he was reading.  Tao quickly lost track of time, berating himself for being late and incurring this punishment and simultaneously feeling grateful to Kris to seeing that he’d done wrong, and administering a punishment.  He’d never meant for anyone in SM to know his past, let alone deal with it, but since someone had to find out, he was glad it was Kris. 

“Time’s up,” Kris  said, and when Tao got to his feet he found a pleasant ache between his shoulders and in his thighs from holding the position for so long.  Then the pain melted away because Kris was _glowing._   “You did so well,” he murmured, and opened his arms.  “Come here.”

Tao went to him immediately, crawling into bed and allowing himself to be enfolded in Kris’s arms.  Kris stroked his back, holding him close.  “I’m sorry I had to punish you,” he said softly.  “You can’t be late, though.  Why didn’t you get up when I woke you this morning?”

Tao flushed.  “I don’t know.  I meant to.”

“Don’t do it again,” Kris warned. 

Tao tilted his head up to look at him, and found Kris already there.  Their lips met, and Kris sucked in a breath.  Tao smiled into the kiss and pressed himself more firmly against him, asking without words.  Kris’s fingers came into Tao’s hair, tightening his grip and holding him in place.  Gradually, the kiss deepened and Tao felt Kris’s tongue at his lips, parting them easily.  The taste was overwhelming; the knowledge that this was _Kris_ even moreso.  Tao shifted until he was straddling Kris entirely, and felt a thrill of heat rush up his spine as he realised Kris was getting hard under him.  Before he could rethink it, Tao shimmied down the bed and framed the growing erection in his hands.  When he met Kris’s eyes, the older teen was gaping at him in wonder.

“May I?”

Kris swallowed, his lips moving soundlessly for a moment.  “Uh… sure. Yeah.” He laughed breathlessly as Tao’s face lit up and he lowered his mouth, using his lips to trace the outline of Kris’s dick through the soft cotton of his sleep pants.  The helpless moan that Kris let out was worth a thousand hours of kneeling in the corner, and Tao hadn’t even gotten started. 

He put all his years of acquired skill into the blowjob, aware that he and Kris were crossing a line they could never go back over again, willing to hurtle over it and never look back just to see Kris make that face again.  Slowly, torturously, Tao drew the pants over his hips and concealed a delighted grin when he realised Kris wasn’t wearing anything under them.   He stroked him a few times just to watch Kris twitch, and hear the muffled noises he made, and then lowered his mouth again, taking Kris halfway down his throat and stroking him with his tongue, watching all the while as Kris’s head fell back and his mouth dropped open. 

Tao took pleasure in Kris’s enjoyment, and didn’t even mind when he stiffened with a broken moan, quaking with orgasm and spilled into Tao’s mouth without warning.  Tao swallowed and crawled back up Kris’s body to cuddle him some more.  Kris stroked his hair softly as his breathing evened out.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  Tao pressed a kiss against his damp throat and didn’t speak. 

 

*

 

The next morning, Kris looked at Tao, sleeping beside him, and flushed with memory.  It was still early, and he got up carefully around the younger man to go and begin his morning routine.  In the sitting room, Luhan met his eyes with a smirk. 

“Good night?” he asked slyly.  Kris paused and glanced around, only to see all the rest of them looking at him with identical smug expressions and realised that _they all knew he’d slept with Tao._   Using what he’d learned from Sarang, Kris drew himself up and declined to comment.  Gradually the looks slacked off, and they were forgotten entirely as the group began their daily practice regiment.

But every time Tao’s eyes met his across the room, Kris flushed, and Tao smiled. 

 _I think I could get used to this,_ Kris found himself thinking. 

 

They were back in the club together to give Tao a chance to talk to Maya and Ken some more.  Kris was sharing a couch with Lady Siyah, and desperately uncomfortable with it.  He couldn’t help but remember that the last time he’d been here, he’d been forced onto his hands and knees, paraded around like a circus sideshow. 

“You’re strung tighter than a coil,” Sarang said during a lull in the general conversation.  “Why don’t you go get yourself a drink, and relax a bit?  We’re not going to bite you.”  His eyebrow arched.  “Unless you ask for it.”

Kris flushed.  “Yes sir,” he murmured, and excused himself from the couch.  He felt a momentary urge to check on Tao, but knew that if he wasn’t safe and well _here_ , then there was nowhere in the world he would be safe.  Besides, he reasoned to himself, the subs might not want a dom checking in on them. 

He still had a little bit of trouble identifying himself as such, but he knew it was a role he’d accepted when he took on the training and agreed to be Tao’s partner.  The rest would come later, he supposed.

He hoped.

Angelique was, unsurprisingly, glad to see him.  She poured him something clear that smelled fruity, and asked how Tao was doing.

Kris, grateful to be on a more even keel with someone, settled down at the bar.  “He’s doing great,” he said.  “So much better than when I first met him.”

“It’s your influence,” Angelique said, looking as proud as any parent.  “If you hadn’t had the courage to come here, he never would have had the courage to become strong.”

Kris flushed.  “You think?”

Someone called Angelique over to the other side of the bar, and Kris turned towards a motion out of the periphery of his vision.  Miss Minnie stood there, looking almost contrite. 

“What are you doing here?” Kris asked, and sucked in a breath to yell for Sarang.  Minnie shushed him.

“I just wanted to apologise to you,” she said.  Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but Kris was thrown by her words just enough that the strangeness didn’t register.  “It wasn’t really _your_ fault that everything in my life was going to hell,” she added. 

“Oh,” said Kris, somewhat mollified.  “I’m pretty sure you’re still not allowed to be in here.”

“Neither are you,” she said, and settled next to him at the bar.  “As I’m fairly certain that you need to be _nineteen_ to be here.”

Kris scowled and she held her hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.  “Old habits.”  She lifted her beer and held it up for a toast.  “Can we be – not-enemies, at least?  If not friends?”

Kris sighed, and lifted his glass, clinking it against her bottle.  “Fine,” he said. “Not enemies,” he added, and took a sip.  Too late, he saw the half-smile on her face turn into a downright nasty smirk, and he set the glass down hurriedly.  “What?”

The room was spinning. 

“You _bitch_ ,” Kris snarled.  “What the fuck did you give me?”

“I said it wasn’t _your_ fault my life fell apart.  But I can’t touch Tao.  He’s used to being hurt.  So, I will _fucking kill you_ and then he will feel the pain I felt when he destroyed my marriage to Martin.”

“You were _married_ to that sick fuck?” The words were slurred, and Angelique was still busy at the other side of the bar.  Kris glanced around, but Tao was sequestered with the other subs, and Sarang wasn’t paying attention to him.  

“He wasn’t always a sick fuck.”  She snatched him up by the hair and hauled him off the stool.  Almost immediately a crowd of people surged towards the bar, covering him from view.  “Not until Tao came.  Do you know he’s been arrested?”

“It’s what he deserved.”

“I knew he was cheating on me.  I never dreamed my husband was a pedophiliac pervert, not until _that boy_ came into our lives.”

Kris could feel himself being hauled towards the exit, but his senses were going dark and his tongue felt thick in his mouth.  He couldn’t do anything about his own abduction, not even cry out and draw attention to himself.  His last thought was the hope that Tao would be okay without him.

 

*

 

Tao felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and quietly excused himself from the group discussion.  Ken and Maya were there of course, and so were half the subs from the club.  Tao felt like he was glowing with happiness; things had never been more right.  When he withdrew his phone and saw the picture was from Kris, he couldn’t believe how happy he was.  He opened it up and downloaded the file, and then the smile froze on his face. 

 


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

The words tore themselves out of his throat and he didn’t even think of the fact that he didn’t have permission, was in fact interrupting a dom, and had completely broken a lot of rules.  It didn’t matter.  Nothing did until he knew that someone was playing a joke on him and Kris was hiding behind one of the other doors, laughing at the prank. 

To his credit, Sarang didn’t think twice.  “He’s not with you?”

“He went for a drink,” one of Siyah’s companions offered.  “Is he at the bar still?  I know how Angelique can talk.”

Tao shook his head.  “Not the bar, I checked.”  Trembling as fear began to set in, he pulled his phone back out of his pocket.  “I received this,” he offered, and showed Sarang the picture.  To his complete horror, Tao watched as the colour drained from Sarang’s face. 

“ _Where is he?_ ”

Sarang didn’t answer, instead turning on his heel and striding towards the bar.  “ _Angel!”_  He bellowed.  Angelique dropped everything she was doing and hurried over to him.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Where’s Kris?”

Her eyebrows came up as she looked around at the faces near the bar.  “I dunno,” she said.  “He was just here a minute ago.  Then this _puta_ tried to start shit so I was just about to get you to throw him out,” she added, scowling in the direction of the angry man at the far end of the bar.  “I think this is his drink,” she said, picking up a discarded glass and sniffing it.  “Watermelon, definitely his.  Maybe the bathroom?”

“Definitely not the bathroom.  Let me see that glass,” Sarang said.  Tao watched them with wide eyes, not understanding what was going on as Sarang sniffed the glass and took a small sip of the liquid.  “You didn’t see _anything?_ ”

“I told you,” Angelique’s voice was strident as concern took over her features.  The noise of the club faded to a muted roar in Tao’s ears, replaced by the rush of blood through his veins.  Kris was gone.  Abducted, maybe?

Why?  How?  _Who_? 

Tao felt the room spinning, and sat down, cradling his head in his hands. 

“We can’t get the police involved,” Sarang was saying, somewhere miles above him.  “Kris is underage, I’ll get slapped with a child molestation or sex-offender charge just for having them in here.”

“Let me see it again,” someone said.

 _Kris._   The word throbbed through Tao’s thoughts in time with his pulse.  _Kris.  Kris.  It’s my fault.  I’m so sorry.  I loved you.  I told you my love was a death sentence.  I_ told _you._

Forgotten on the floor, Tao burst into tears.

 

*

 

Kris woke to a throbbing headache and the sound of rushing water.  He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head, and then took in his surroundings as memory kicked him in the head.  Minnie had _drugged_ him.  Furious, he tried to rise out of whatever he was in – it looked like an oversized fishtank – and found himself restrained by the wrists.  It was too dark to see clearly, but he guessed it was nylon rope by the way it felt.  He couldn’t move his hands more than a few inches; there was no possibility of untying himself.  And to top it all off, the tank he was in was slowly filling with warm water.  Already, it was up to his ankles. 

 

“You _bitch!_ ”

 

“Watch your fucking language!” she screamed back.  “Do you like my surprise?  Revenge is so sweet.”

 

“You’re going to kill me?  Because you think Tao broke up your marriage?”  He was still too pissed off to be afraid, but the fear was lurking under the anger and he struggled to hold onto the rage to keep it at bay.  Being angry was better than being afraid. 

 

“No,” she said, calm and utterly insane.  “I’m going to let you die.  You see, all I’ve done is turn on the water.  That’s a sensory deprivation tank, by the way,” she added.  “If I put the cover on it, no one will ever know you’re in here.  No sound gets in or out.  No light.  And soon, no air.”  She came closer, her footsteps echoing oddly.  Kris heard some grunts and shuffles and then she appeared in his line of sight, looming over the tank and sliding the cover over it.  Kris lost his grip on anger and the fear swamped him as she pushed the lid over the tank.  The minimal light from her flash light was cut off as a curtain drew down around the glass, and then the top slipped into place and he was utterly alone in the darkness with just the flowing water, steadily rising over his hips. 

 

Kris lost track of time almost immediately.  He could hear his own harsh breathing over the sound of the water, but he couldn’t see anything and gradually the white-noise of the tap drowned out his thoughts.  He drifted into space, detached from his body.  Stars illuminated him all around, and a nebula swirled past.  He felt a touch on his hand and saw Tao, guiding him towards the center of a nearby galaxy.  He spoke, but no words came out of his mouth.  Tao seemed to understand him anyway.

 

_You’re here._

 

 _I’m here._   Tao’s voice was equally soundless, and yet in the roar of the passing nebula, it was like a shout inside his head.  _I’m never leaving you.  You saved me, Kris, when I didn’t even know I needed saving.  You’re a good person.  That’s why we’re going to heaven._

 

Kris hung back a moment.  _You’re coming with me?_

 

 _As if I’d let you out of my sight._   Tao laughed musically, soundlessly.  Kris felt something cold touch his stomach and glanced down, but everything vanished. 

 

“Tao!  _Tao, come back!”_   It was no use.  Everything was gone.  He flexed his fingers, trying to move and remembered the ropes.  There was no galaxy; he wasn’t in space, he was in the tank.  _Hallucinating,_ he realised.  Unseen, unnoticed, tears began dripping down his face.  _I never got to tell him I love him._   Tao reappeared by his side, glowing as if lit from within.

 

“Are you an angel?” Kris asked. 

 

“Yes,” Tao replied simply. 

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“I said I wasn’t going to leave you.  You didn’t abandon me even when you could have.  Should have.  You’re so brave and strong, Kris.  I want you to know that.”

 

Kris threw his arms around him and hugged him.  “Thank you,” he whispered, but what he meant was _I love you._   Around them, a forest of light rippled into existence.  Waves of pure colour lapped the shore of glimmering sand.  “It’s so beautiful _,_ ” Kris murmured.

 

“Yeah,” Tao agreed breathlessly.  When Kris looked at him, he found Tao looking at _him._   He couldn’t stop the blush that stained his cheeks. 

 

“You’re not even looking,” he teased.

 

“I’m already seeing the most glorious thing in existence,” Tao replied easily, and twined their fingers together. 

 

“Tao…”

 

“Yes, Kris?”

 

“I’m glad you’re here with me.”

 

Tao leaned his head on Kris’s shoulder as they settled into the dazzling sand and watched an iridescent sun sink below the polychromatic waters.  “So am I.” 

 

“Tao.” 

 

“Kris?”

 

“ _I love –_ ”  You.

 

“ _Kris!_ He’s in here!”

 

Light poured in from an unknown source, blinding him.   It only lasted a moment, and then a sharp pain stabbed into his lungs and everything went dark. 

 

*

 

Someone wrapped a comforting arm around Tao’s shoulders and offered him a tissue.  When he managed to look up, he saw Siyah’s warm brown eyes looking into his face, her expression almost maternal and tender. 

 

“He’s going to be okay,” she said.  “We’re trying to find out where the picture was sent from now, and we’re going to find him, and then we’re going to bring him back for you.  So don’t cry, okay?  He won’t be happy if you’re crying.”

 

Tao’s tears stopped instantly, but he accepted the tissue to wipe his face.  “You’re right,” he murmured, feeling dead inside.  “But it’s my fault he’s going to die.” 

 

“Tao!” Siyah was scandalised.  “Don’t say things like that.  In the first place, he’s _not_ going to die.  In the second, none of this is your fault.” 

 

Tao nodded.  “He’s going to die.  It’s my fault because I love him.”  His eyes filled again and the tears spilled back down his cheeks uncontrolled.  “My love is a death sentence.  But I never even told him how I feel.” 

 

Ken’s excited voice rose above the confusion.  “Hey, I know that place!  It’s our overflow warehouse, just down the street.”

 

Sarang cursed a blue streak.  Siyah gently wiped Tao’s face and refused to let go of him.  Tao felt a momentary flash of shame that he’d caused the domme to have to kneel on the floor with him like this, but it was washed away a moment later in the tide of regret that swept through him. 

 

“Siyah, you and Angelique get everyone out of here.  Close the club down early.  Ken, stay here and call the police.  Get Kim Jongyeol if he’s on duty; he’ll listen to me at least.”  Sarang’s iron glare swept around to Tao.  “You, Tao, you’re coming with me to get him back.” 

 

Trembling, Tao climbed to his feet and nodded.  Siyah squeezed him once and let go, hurrying to go carry out Sarang’s orders.

 

The trip to the warehouse took less than five minutes on foot, but Tao didn’t remember a second of it.  Sarang observed the door and swore when he noticed how it had been tampered with.  He opened the door like a lightning bolt and hit the wall.  Light flooded the building, revealing a large selection of toys and various restraint apparatus.  Tao took it all in without really seeing any of it, looking for Kris.  There was a musty, wet smell in the air, and a sound like someone had left a sink on.  Then a quiet female voice swearing. 

 

“Tao, find him,” Sarang ordered, and vanished between two machines, heading deeper into the labyrinthine collection of discarded equipment.  Tao snapped alert like a hunting dog, suddenly aware that Kris’s fate was in his hands. 

 

He remembered the tank from the picture, and set off to find it.  In the distance, he could hear Sarang yelling, a woman yelling back, but the words were nonsense, endless noise that bounced through his skull and left without leaving any meaning behind. 

 

When he saw the tank, he almost didn’t recognise it.  It looked like a box covered with an enormous black sheet, but he knew he’d seen the lift in the background of the picture.  He rushed towards it and lifted the curtain.  Behind a glass wall was Kris, still slumped inside the tank, only this time the water was up to his chin.  As Tao watched, horrified, it continued to fill and the water rose over his mouth.  Kris, his eyes open but unseeing, lifted his chin, trying to keep himself above water for as long as possible. 

 

Tao tugged on the curtain, but it was trapped under a heavy lid.  With a strength born of desperation, he seized the lid and flung it backwards.  It landed somewhere else with a large clatter, and light flooded the tank, illuminating Kris.  His eyes were so dilated they were black and Tao had a feeling Kris wasn’t seeing him even when their eyes met.  It was like when Kris had his breakdown over the club, only a thousand – a million times worse.  Because whatever made Kris _Kris_ wasn’t behind his eyes anymore.  And then the water slipped over his head while Tao was staring at him like an idiot.  He shouted for Sarang, and then splashed into the tank. 

 

He got a grip on Kris’s shirt and hauled, but no matter how hard he pulled, Kris didn’t come above the water.  Tao took a deep breath and knelt down, feeling the water come over his head as he groped along Kris’s arm until he found the restraints.  Before he could untangle the first knot, he had to come back up for air.  Keenly aware that Kris needed oxygen just as badly as he did, Tao rushed to untangle the knot.  His fingers were numb and the water made the rope slick.  Panic left him fumbling the knot a third time before he had to breathe again. 

 

Finally, _finally_ , the knot came undone and Kris’s arm was free.  Tao pulled him up, but only got him a few inches above the water before he stopped again.  _Another rope!_ He realised, and let Kris fall limply into the water so he could reach down for the second knot.  Working entirely by feel, Tao stayed under the water until his lungs were burning, and he knew the next second he would inhale whether he meant to or not.  He pushed up and sucked in a deep breath, shaking as he realised it was too late.  Even if he managed to get Kris out of the water, he’d already drowned. 

 

_I can’t leave him!_

 

Tao dove again, managing to get this one untied even quicker.  He picked Kris up and stood up, but had a hard time supporting the dead weight of the limp singer.  He couldn’t feel a breath where Kris’s head lolled against his neck.  “Oh god.”  The words burst from him in a choked sob.  “No no no no no no,” he murmured, and almost dropped Kris as despair settled into his heart. 

 

“I’ve got him,” Sarang said, suddenly there and taking Kris out of Tao’s arms.  A man in a police uniform was handcuffing a woman who looked vaguely familiar.  Tao paid them no heed as he pulled himself out of the tank and watched Sarang lay Kris – motionless, lips blue, chest still – on the ground.  Once he was free of the tank, Tao’s legs gave out from under him and he fell to the floor, catching himself hard on his palms. 

 

Sarang knelt and put his ear to Kris’s chest.  “His heart’s still beating,” he announced.  The woman screeched something, and Sarang stood up.  “Tao, push the water out of his chest.  Here,” he demonstrated.  “Put your hands here and push.”   

 

Still shaking, in shock and dripping wet, Tao did as he was told.  In his periphery, he was aware that Sarang and the woman and the cop were having a heated discussion about something, but Tao tuned them out and continued pressing.  He didn’t know how much time passed, but he was suddenly aware of Kris trembling.  Coughing.  Water spilled out of his mouth and he coughed and then vomited more water.  Heedless of everything, Tao waited just long enough to ensure Kris was breathing normally, and then threw himself onto the older teen.

 

Kris’s arms came around him automatically, sheltering him as Tao fell apart.  “Tao,” Kris said.  There was an awed tone to his voice, which was husky from damage.  “Tao.”  Then Kris was clinging to _him_ like he couldn’t let go, and there were fingers in his hair and all Tao knew was that Kris was alive, and warm and breathing and _here_ and nothing else mattered _._

 

*

 

Tao shuddered in his arms, sobbing loudly into his shoulder.  It almost drowned out the conversation Kris could almost hear, and he would have tuned it out but he recognised Sarang’s voice and his attention sharpened.  Tao was alright and in his arms and not going anywhere, and he glanced up at the source of the voices. 

 

“He’s a predator!”  Minnie screeched.  “He’s insane!  He needs to be put in a _cage!_ ” She was handcuffed and wild-eyed.

 

“Not a word about the kids,” Sarang said to the cop.  They both ignored Minnie.  “Agreed?”

 

“Absolutely,” the cop said, and pocketed something.  “Although you’ll owe me a private explanation for this later, Choi,” he added. 

 

“Just get her out of my warehouse,” Sarang muttered, and knelt beside Kris and Tao, touching Tao gently on the shoulder.  “Are you okay?”

 

Tao shifted his head ever so slightly, just enough that he could look at Sarang out of one eye.  He nodded his head in swift, jerky motions and then squeezed Kris even tighter.  Sarang turned his attention to Kris. 

 

“What about you?”

 

Kris swallowed.  “My throat hurts,” he said, voice rough.  “And so does my chest.” 

 

“You drowned.  Do you remember?” 

 

Kris blinked.  He’d known it was bad, but hadn’t realised it was that serious.  “Y-yes,” he said. 

 

Sarang put a hand on his forehead to check his temperature.  “You might get sick after a shock like this,” he warned, and then gently maneuvered Tao out of his way.  “I’m going to listen to your lungs really quick,” he warned, and then pressed his ear to Kris’s chest.  “Breathe as deeply as you can.” 

 

Kris inhaled.  It hurt, but it was an _alive_ kind of pain.  Tao, without breaking contact with Kris, had shifted to his other side to give Sarang room to work. 

 

“Your lungs sound clear,” Sarang said.  “You should probably go to a hospital –” Kris cut him off, shaking his head.  He didn’t want anyone to know.  The sooner this was behind him, the better.  “Fine.  Keep an eye on yourself, though.  If you think you’re having any troubles, go see a doctor.”  He quirked a grin, but didn’t explain what was funny.  “Tao, you watch him, too.  Make sure he keeps himself healthy.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” Tao whispered, the first words he’d spoken since saving Kris’s life.  Then the meaning of that sank in through Kris’s shocked brain, and he held Tao even tighter.

 

Sarang lifted Kris’s shirt and scowled.  “You’re both going to need dry clothes.  Let’s get back to the club and get you warm before you take a chill,” he added, and then glanced at Kris’s chest. Kris looked down and saw bruises forming where the worst of the pain was concentrated, and for a moment he was afraid something else was going wrong, but Sarang just nodded.  “Good job, Tao,” he said, and ruffled Tao’s hair.  Tao pushed his face into Kris’s chest, but Kris could feel the way his lips curved into a smile. 

 

*

 

Tao was so close to Kris that they almost couldn’t walk, but he couldn’t bear to let him go.  Kris had almost _died._   He’d stopped breathing for several minutes, even though his heart kept beating.  Tao couldn’t stop shaking.  _I almost lost him_.

 

“Kris,” he murmured.  Kris’s hand tightened around his shoulders, and when he looked up, Kris was smiling like the sun.  It illuminated his entire face and just _radiated_ happiness.  Tao felt himself smile in return.  Almost.  Death had been beaten back this time.  _By Tao._

 

The realisation stopped him short, and Kris almost tripped over his foot. 

 

“Are you okay?”  Kris pushed a lock of damp hair off his forehead and bent to look him in the eyes.  “Tao?”

 

“I saved you,” Tao said, stunned.  Kris drew him into a hug, ignoring Sarang’s muttered comment about getting out of the cold night air. 

 

“You saved my life,” Kris admitted.  “You’re my hero.” 

 

“You’re my _angel_ ,” Tao replied, dazed. 

 

Suddenly, Kris said, “I love you, Tao.”

 

Tao looked up into his face, found him too close, and smiled as Kris closed the distance between them and kissed him.  

 

“ _Teenagers,_ ” Sarang muttered, half-disgusted and half-fond.  “Let’s go _back_ inside now before you both catch pneumonia, please?” He herded them into the club, which was disturbingly empty.  Angelique, Siyah and Ken were gathered in a tight knot beside one of the stages. 

 

“Kris!”  “You’re back! You’re okay!” “What happened?”

 

Tao shyly tucked his face behind Kris’s shoulder as Sarang reassured them that he’d tell them everything as soon as he got the two soaking wet idiots into dry clothes, and herded them towards his office.  Tao felt like he was walking on clouds, the ground a million miles beneath his feet.  _Kris loved him!_ He loved Kris and Kris loved him, and Kris was _still alive._

 

  _I’m not worthless,_ Tao realised, and for the first time he really took in the messages Kris had been sending him since they’d stumbled into each other’s lives.  He wasn’t worthless.  If not for him, Kris would have died.  He’d _saved Kris’s life._ Then he smiled.  It was just returning the favour, after all.  Kris had saved his life many times over already. 

 

“You saved my life,” Tao murmured.  “You saved _me._ I love you too.” 

 

“Have your moment later, guys,” Sarang warned.  “You need to get changed and then you’ve both got to get home and get some sleep.  This has been a really rough night.”

 

“Killjoy,” Kris muttered, but he didn’t let go of Tao either. 

 

“Get _changed,_ ” Sarang repeated, throwing clothes at them.  Sweat pants and tee shirts and socks.  “If I have to come over there and _cut_ your clothes off, I will,” he threatened.  Tao squeezed Kris’s waist and finally let go of him.  He didn’t step more than a foot away, though, and couldn’t keep his eyes of Kris’s body.  Kris peeled his jeans off unselfconsciously and Tao remembered the first time they’d come into the club together, and how shy Kris had seemed.  He moved with a definitive purpose now, at ease with himself.  The streak of dominance Tao had seen that first attracted him had become deeper and more muted, more a part of himself.  Then he realised he was watching Kris growing up, and felt proud to be a part of his life. 

 

Pleased that Kris would still have more years in which to grow. 

 

He didn’t even consider that he was growing up, too.  It was like a kick to the stomach when it occurred to him, but he thought back on Kris’s influence and lessons and words.  Kris made him into a better person.  They were growing together like two trees planted too close, trunks twining around one another as they reached for the sky.  Tao couldn’t imagine a life without Kris in it, and wondered how he’d ever gotten by before he met Kris.  When Kris met his eyes and smiled, Tao knew he was thinking something similar.  They stripped and dried off in companionable silence.  When they were getting into the borrowed clothes, Kris began yawning. 

 

“We should go,” Tao said, and then realised what had just happened.  He glanced in Kris’s direction and saw approval.  He relaxed, and captured Kris’s hand in his, curling their fingers together.  “Gege,” he said peacefully. 

 

“Teenagers,” Sarang muttered, shaking his head.  He was smiling though, too.  “Let’s get you back home,” he said, and ushered them out the door. 

 

*

 

Life back in the dorms was surprisingly normal.  No one noticed anything out of the ordinary, although a few sly glances were shot at their intertwined hands.  To most of the trainees, it was just a sign that their relationship was growing.  None of them had any idea. 

 

Kris held his head high, and went about his practice routine with a new and fierce determination.  His interactions with Tao coloured each day with brightness and sunshine, and it was pure and sheer joy to watch Tao blossom from the timid, shy mouse of a boy he’d been when they met into a powerful and independent young man.  He still took orders from Kris, and Kris still enforced them, but he felt like they were learning to live with each other. 

 

Kris had never put much stock in the idea of soul mates before, but he knew that if such a thing existed, Tao was his other half.  They just completed each other; Tao made him so happy, and the younger trainee was so transparent that Kris knew he made him happy, too.   

 

Which was why Kris found the newfound desire to sleep with him so alarming.  He knew Tao wasn’t a virgin, but he was, and he didn’t have the first idea how to go about suggesting that they go beyond oral.  Oddly enough, it was Tao himself who recognised the new tension in Kris’s reactions to him, and confronted him gently about it after practice.

 

“Gege,” he said, quietly.  Kris sighed, knowing without words what that tone was saying. 

 

“I…”

 

He couldn’t say it.  Not with Tao looking at him with those big doe eyes and shy smile.  But then Tao stepped closer and put his hand on Kris’s arm, and Kris blurted it out like a lovesick kid.  “I want to sleep with you!”

 

Tao’s face flushed red and his eyes widened, but his smile never wavered.  “Okay,” he said. 

 

Kris blinked.  _That was easy._

 

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” Tao admitted, and ducked his head. 

 

“Then why didn’t you…”

 

“I wanted to wait until you were ready.” 

 

“ _Oh._ ”  Kris gathered him into a hug, holding him tightly.  Tao gave as good as he got, squeezing him back until the air left his lungs.  “Tonight?”

 

Tao’s eyes darkened, his pupils swelling.  “Yes,” he whispered, and then the other trainees were pouring into the room noisily, and Kris had to suffer through the entire day in a state of constant half-arousal, anticipating taking the final step with Tao and finally feeling that lithe, muscular body pressed up against his as he sank his dick into the hot sheathe of his ass and Kris had to excuse himself to the bathroom as the mental images took over. 

 

Tao, who could read most of his mind at this point, laughed so loud it followed him all the way. 

 

 

 

Later, once they were back in their dorms, Kris was frantically studying internet articles, wondering how in the hell someone was supposed to do this for the first time.  Then Tao entered and slipped his towel off, standing gloriously naked in the middle of the room, and Kris forgot everything he’d ever learned about anything. 

 

“Gege,” Tao said, coming to him and taking his hand.  “Calm down.” 

 

“I just – I don’t want to hurt you,” Kris stammered.  “I want to – I want you – I want – It should –”

 

Tao pushed one finger over his lips, silencing him, and then leaned up to kiss him.  While Kris was distracted by the kiss, he felt Tao’s fingers at his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, and he awkwardly let his hands rest on Tao’s shoulders, not sure where else he could put them.  This was different than the handjobs and blowjobs they were used to giving each other – they’d never taken their clothes off, for one – for so many reasons.  It was an important step in their relationship, and although it wouldn’t really change anything, it would change _everything._

 

Tao slipped his shirt off his shoulders and Kris let it fall, feeling Tao’s fingers trace a line to his chest.  He stroked his skin gently, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing, and then gently maneuvered Kris backwards onto the bed, climbing on top of him and still glorious in his unselfconscious nudity.  Kris could see he was already getting hard, and then Tao was stroking him through his jeans, shorting out the connections between his brain cells.  Soon his pants were gone, and his underwear.  Soon there was nothing between them except skin and heat. 

 

Tao handed him a small tube of lubrication, and Kris squeezed a generous dollop out onto his fingers before moving his hand to the junction of Tao’s thighs.  Tao took a deep breath, but obligingly spread his legs to make room for him. 

 

“Are you sure?” Kris whispered.

 

“Absolutely.” There was no hesitation, no nervousness.  Just anticipation. Kris touched him for the first time and felt him tense and gasp.  Without stopping, Kris spread the lube and pushed his fingers in, curious.  Tao moaned out loud.  Then suddenly, just like that, there was no nervousness.  It vanished in a surge of lust, and Kris became more forceful, pushing his fingers in and out of Tao’s body until he was writhing and whimpering. 

 

“Oh that’s so good,” Tao murmured.  “Keep going.” 

 

Kris decided that if Tao was still coherent, he wasn’t doing a good job, and set about breaking his brain with pleasure.  First, he lowered his mouth to the tip of Tao’s erection, already fully hard and leaking pre-come, and licked it.  Tao moaned again, but Kris wasn’t finished.  He curled his fingers up at the same time, switching from thrusting to searching and stroked his inner walls until he found his prostrate.  When Tao let out a broken cry, he knew he’d found it, and kept up the stimulation as he blew him.  Soon, Tao was thrashing his head back and forth, gasping for air as his hips pumped up trying to get more contact and friction. 

 

“Please please please,” Tao murmured.  “Oh god, Kris, please.” 

 

Kris withdrew his fingers and mouth, and left Tao to relax a little, remembering some of Sarang’s lessons.  When the flush faded from Tao’s skin, he relubed his fingers and pushed them in again, using his other hand to stroke him this time.  Once more, he brought Tao to the brink of orgasm and withdrew.  This time, the flush didn’t fade entirely from his face, and his eyes looked glassy.  “Kris,” he murmured.  “Please?”

 

“When I’m ready,” Kris said, and smiled to himself.  In the distant back of his mind, almost subconsciously, he was taking all of the lessons he’d ever been given and making them a part of himself.  The one he saw the most was a sudden and complete understanding of domination.  Taking Tao apart like this was _so much more satisfying_ than just fucking him hard and fast and falling asleep when they were done.  He leaned down and gently bit the side of Tao’s neck, timing it to coincide with a rough stroke over his prostrate, and was rewarded when Tao moaned brokenly, louder this time as he started to lose control. 

 

Just when Tao seemed to be hovering on the edge of orgasm, Kris withdrew completely once again, and then lifted himself up Tao’s body, curling around him and cuddling him close. 

 

“Gege,” Tao blurted out, suddenly more alert than Kris would have liked.  “Ge, you’re not going to leave me like this are you –”

 

Kris shushed him with a kiss.  “Absolutely not.  Relax.”  Tao blinked for a moment, then his lips curved into a smirk and he let his head loll against Kris’s shoulder as his breathing evened out.  Soon, Kris felt it was becoming too even, and glanced down, taking in Tao’s half-lidded eyes and lax face.  _He’s going to fall asleep like this soon,_ Kris thought, and almost laughed.  It also seemed like a good time to wake him up. He snagged the lube container gently enough not to disturb the drowsing Tao, and coated his dick with it.  Then with one sudden movement, he rolled on top of the younger man and guided himself into his body.  Instantly, Tao came alive as if electrified, his whole body arching up against Kris’s at the sudden penetration. 

 

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” the noises tore themselves out of his throat as if he had no control, and then he seized Kris by the shoulders to ground himself and Kris was sure of it.  He snapped his hips forward as they’d been taught in dance classes just a week ago, and Tao whimpered.  The look on his face was anything but pained, however, and Kris took heart, withdrawing to snap forward again.  This time, Tao’s hips were there to meet him, lifting to allow him deeper penetration.  Then Kris realised _he was fucking Tao_ and almost lost his rhythm.  The pleasure mounted.  As desired, Tao dissolved into incoherency, babbling mindless syllables as Kris pushed him harder, holding him down some times to imitate restraints.  It seemed to last forever; it was over too soon.  Tao spilled first, coming all over his stomach with a sound that was almost a scream, and Kris had to hold onto himself to keep from following him over the edge.  He fucked Tao through the aftershocks, and then with their peculiar telepathy, knew the moment the residual pleasure from sensitivity was about to become pain, and only then did he allow himself to climax.  In the back of his mind, he was proud and a little weirded out by his own ability to control himself, but then again, he reminded himself, Sarang was a good teacher. 

 

Tao fell asleep almost immediately, curling in towards Kris automatically.  Kris held him close and pressed a kiss to his damp hair.

 

“ _Goodnight, my angel,”_ he whispered.


	22. Epilogue

Someone knocked on the door.  Tao glanced at Kris, who nodded, and then he pulled it open.  To his surprise, Baekhyun stood there, looking miserable. 

“Can I come in for a little bit?” Baekhyun asked, sounding more upset and torn up than Tao had ever heard before.  Behind them, Kris took in his face and his voice, and then left the room and Tao knew he was going for tea. 

Tao stepped back and invited Baekhyun further into the room.  “Are you okay?” he asked.  Baekhyun nodded stiffly, but as soon as Kris returned with a mug of steaming tea and a concerned expression, Baekhyun’s control broke. 

Half crying as he accepted the mug, Baekhyun allowed himself to be lead to the bed and guided into sitting. 

“I’ve always been weird,” he began.  “Like, I don’t know how to explain it.  When you do something that hurts you feel pain, right?”

Kris and Tao nodded in silence, wondering where this was going. 

“I don’t feel pain,” Baekhyun revealed.  “It feels… good.  To me.”  He looked ashamed, and Tao settled next to him, putting one hand on his leg comfortingly.  “I found out about these clubs that you can go to online,” he continued, smiling weakly at Tao.  “And I started going, and then I found a really good one with a really nice dom.”  The words poured out of him like infection from a wound, and Tao wondered how long he’d kept this inside.  When he got to the part where Chanyeol followed him, Tao realised he knew how this was going to end. 

 

*

 

After rescuing Chanyeol from the rain, the rapper became ill, and Tao felt like it was his personal mission to take care of him.  Kris was looking after Baekhyun, and the others were more concerned with Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s fight to worry about the man himself.  Incoherent most of the time, Chanyeol was fevered and Tao worried.  He was leaning over to check his temperature once more when Chanyeol’s eyes opened once and focused on him finally. 

“You need to wake up and eat something,” Tao said gently. 

“I’m not hungry.”  His stomach rumbled, and Chanyeol turned his face away.  “I don’t want to eat,” he amended. 

 

Later, Tao was encouraging him to take a little bit of soup, but it came back up as soon as it passed his lips.  Tao rubbed his back soothingly, wishing there was more he could do. 

“It’s okay,” he said, and then switched thoughtlessly to Chinese.  “Everything’s going to be alright.” 

“I like hearing you talk,” Chanyeol mumbled.  Tao paused, surprised by the revelation. 

“Should I talk to you, then?” he asked. 

“In Chinese.”  Chanyeol settled back against the pillows, and Tao mentally shrugged. 

“Well, I suppose since you can’t understand me I can tell you finally that I know exactly what you’re going through right now,” he began.  “You see, I’ve been a slave for a really long time, and even though slaves and subs are different, it’s not _too_ different…”

 

*

 

Kris helped Chanyeol into the shower, enjoying the feeling of being useful.  He’d talked some sense into Baekhyun, he hoped, and had at least noticed some definite improvement between the two Koreans.  When Chanyeol exited the shower, Kris met him at the door. 

 

“Back to bed?” He suggested.  “Luhan’s gone to get some cold medicine, and you need to get something to eat.” 

 

Chanyeol shook his head, looking argumentative.  “Kris, you really don’t have to.  I mean,” he continued.  “I’m not really hung-”

 

Kris cut him off.  “You will eat,” he demanded.  Shock rippled through him when Chanyeol’s eyes dropped and his shoulders hunched, reminding Kris of nothing so much as _Tao._  

 

“Okay,” he said, in much the same tone as Tao, as well.  Kris studied him in silence until it dragged on too long and made the other rapper suspicious. 

 

*

 

Time passed quickly, and things seemed to settle down between Chanyeol and Baekhyun, something Kris was grateful for.  It was hard enough keeping up with Tao without having to babysit as well.  The cruise announcement was met with overjoy, but once they were actually out on the water, things went sour so quickly that Kris barely had time to absorb any of it. 

 

“No one is going anywhere,” he ordered.  “We’re going to lock the doors and _stay here_.”

 

Baekhyun freaked.  “I can’t,” he said, and bolted.  Even through the reigning chaos, Kris heard the words that followed.

 

“Starling, _down!”_    


End file.
